


Dancing Roses in the Melting Snow

by Adjudicato



Series: Roses Before the Throne [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Complete, Death, F/F, Falling In Love, Older Characters, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 18:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 119,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9136243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adjudicato/pseuds/Adjudicato
Summary: How fickle the imaginings of Fate. How short-sighted the goals of our conscious minds. How easily shattered the will of our hearts.Weiss Schnee has finally come to attend the Schnee Dust Company Management Training University. In hopes to advance within the company and overtake her Father all the sooner as well as step out from the shadow of her vaunted sister. It is a shining beacon of great, young minds. A place of transcendent learning and pedigree. A school so massive and renowned, an entire city lays built around it.But Weiss has a particular habit, picked up in her college days before the MTU. Now, preparing to indulge in that secret, she has unwittingly set herself on a path that will lead her to the edge of all, to the limit of what, when, where and why. In the interim, however, there is a certain other woman she must contend with. One who will leave her mark on the young Schnee and bring her to a truth she could never have imagined.Will you step in, Dearest Reader, and walk with the two Roses on this path? Will you follow to the Terminus of all things, as they do?Will you watch these Roses dance their first dance in melting snow?





	1. Educational Entertainment

**Author's Note:**

> This work has been previously posted to Fanfiction.net, first published in March of 2016 and completed in November of 2016. All editing that will be done, has been done. While criticism and comments about the quality of this work are encouraged and welcomed, please bear these things in mind. And thank you, one and all, for having a look. I hope you will enjoy.  
> Shall we begin?

Dancing Roses in the Melting Snow

 

Chapter 1

Educational Entertainment

 

Ϯ - A Forward Note

 

What is one’s destiny if not to shape it oneself? What is life if not a trial of perseverance and innovation? What is love if not an exertion of our ability to recognize fate’s gentle rapping upon the door of our soul?

When faced with these realities, as they present themselves over the course of our all too short existence, it is oft the case that opportunity is missed and replaced by tragedy. To see the coming precipice and not slow our pace, only to plummet over the edge, is indeed the ultimate folly of one who assumes their path preordained. And yet, there is always the glimmer of hope in these darkest moments.

Thus, if you are interested, join me for a story I wish to relay. A story of two individuals, plucked from their desired paths in the ever-flowing river, as their respective journeys intersect. A story of life, its tragedies and hardships, both self-inflicted and inevitable. A story of what may blossom from opening oneself to possibility born of consternation.

A story of roses that dance in melting snow.

 

Љ

 

The day was just beginning, the sun peeking shyly through stained glass, as a massive body of students stood at the threshold of their new lives. Cool spring air, carrying with it the final whispers of winter’s grasp, drifted coyly through the open assembly. The room would be otherwise unremarkable, were it not for the awe-inspiring material of which it was crafted.

Formed of what, to the untrained eye, seemed as granite, the mighty walls were gray and foreboding to behold. Their sleek façade bade the ingress of feelings of entrapment, tempered paradoxically with the warm glow cast by the rays of the sun. The myriad of colors, created by the scattering of the rays through the stained glass, shone magnificently upon the walls and students alike. In excellent contrast to the depressing façade of the walls, the light was welcoming and freeing.

It was an amazing feeling to be there, so washed over and filled with the paradoxical auras of this room. A fitting feeling it was, as those assembled here today knew well in their hearts. Hearts that were strong and willful, possessed of the drive to move mountains by their mind’s visions alone. For, you see, these were no ordinary students which were now gathered in this unordinary room.

Indeed, this room was but one of many which comprised a monolithic university, within which the future members of a certain company were trained to be tomorrow’s visionaries and leaders. As the few hundred stood there, eagerly awaiting to be addressed by their new Dean, one student in particular held an altogether different air about her.

Standing not much taller than the norm, with hair and skin the alabaster-white of freshly fallen snow, was a woman whose mere posture spoke volumes of her pedigree. Icy-blue eyes gazed intently toward the lectern at the forefront of the assembly, their cold stare unmoving and unfettered by the commotion all around. Her mind was entirely unbound by that which so concerned the rabble, as she perceived them to be, all around her.

Weiss Schnee, heiress apparent of the mighty Schnee Dust Company, stood elegant and composed as she awaited the commencement of the orientation. Her focus was honed and her intent clear, for she stood here today, embarking further upon her journey, to take the first of many steps to free herself. The drive to be free of the shadows which so consumed her, the shadows of her sister and father which she had so long been held within, marked her reason for attending this place.

These were the thoughts that ran through the heiress’ head, coloring her posture and aura with a cold aloofness easily felt by all around her. These were the thoughts that were broken by the gravelly voice of an older gentleman, addressing the entire body of the newly enrolled students.

“Welcome, one and all, to the Schnee Dust Company’s Management Training University!” he boomed into the microphone.

All at once, the rumpus of conversations and excited mutterings was halted and stilled. All eyes, the heiress’ included, were focused immediately upon the man behind the lectern. He had approached so calmly and inconspicuously as to be entirely unnoticed. Now, with the assembly’s full attention, he adjusted his glasses and addressed his new students in earnest.

“You have all come here, through trial and tribulation, for reasons that are fully your own.” He began, gravelly voice shuddering the speakers, “Know first, though, that your position here is neither guaranteed nor given. By merit of hard work and due diligence, you have, each and every one of you, carved a place for yourself in the roster of this prestigious academy.”

Every student beamed with a well-earned sense of pride at the Dean’s words. Every student, that is, except for one. The heiress’ cold and calculating heart neither fluttered nor raced under the praising words, assured beforehand of her innate prowess. She merely gazed on, listening intently for anything she deemed important.

“Furthermore, be well aware that slacking and misconduct will be swiftly rewarded with expulsion.” The Dean continued, “While you have certainly taken a good first step toward proving yourselves worthy of the Schnee Dust Company, there is no room for chaff in our granary. Thus, I implore you all to take your studies seriously and apply yourselves, with all the same fervor by which you entered, toward the shared goal of honorable graduation.”

These words tempered the listening crowd somewhat, the heiress still remaining an exception. As all ingested and contemplated the speech, allowing the gravity of it to sink in, the heiress was joined by another unfazed individual. A pair of silver eyes, gleaming with no less enthusiasm than before, watched the Dean with excitement unwavering.

“Now, with all these things in mind, I urge you all to listen carefully to the instruction of your faculty. Their guidance will assure you, along with your own industry, a clear path to your goals.”

The Dean’s introduction finished, he stepped back from the lectern and exited the stage. So muted was the man’s presence, even while being watched, it almost seemed as if he left unnoticed as he had come.

After that came a barrage of various teachers and other members of the facility, nigh unto three hundred once all was said and done. They introduced themselves in turn, explaining with succinct detail of their function and duties within the academy. To the amazement of some, these professors and coaches covered everything from business basics to philosophical studies. It was little wonder how the Schnee Dust Company had managed to become such a behemoth of the corporate world.

During all this, Weiss’ mind took in the information on a subconscious level while her higher thought wandered. Plans had to be made to assert herself as the top student; notes had to be taken on which teachers could be made allies and which would have to be placated by academic means. Ever the calculating opponent, Weiss would not allow herself to be bested by any challenger.

These thoughts were once more interrupted by the gravelly voice of the Dean, alerting the heiress to the end of the assembly as he addressed them once more.

“There you have it, my newest scholars.” The man began, “These will be your pedagogues and drill masters for the next five years. I wish you all the best of luck, and may the light of knowledge shine ever warmly upon your fertile minds.”

 

Љ

 

The heiress paced carefully around an elegantly appointed room, her icy blue eyes wandering across every detail and facet of her surroundings. It was a long-bred habit, instilled by a childhood of nearly military drills and rules, to make sure everything was perfectly placed and dressed. Not a single book stood apart from the others on her bookshelf, lined with utter perfection and attention to detail. Not a stitch of clothing lay out of place upon their hangers, placed evenly and meticulously in her oaken wardrobe.

The little coffee table at the center of this room, which would serve as the heiress’ private dorm for the duration of her attendance, was lavishly decorated with a bouquet of flowers. These stood in a crystal vase, their colors matched painstakingly to be appeasing to the eye, towering above an extravagantly crafted tea set. In a word, Weiss’ room was the absolute expression of compulsive order.

This was not to say, however, that the heiress was satisfied with the fruit of her obsessive labors. Though it would seem perfect to the untrained eye, the uncouth mind, the icy jewels in her head caught glimpse of every wrong detail. Any speck of dust left by her marching gait, any item turned just a degree past where she wanted it, nothing escaped her eye.

“Honestly, you’d think the man was standing over my shoulder…” Weiss scoffed aloud, to no one in particular.

She continued her errant pacings, eyes flitting about the room in search of further errors to correct. This little ritual would drive the average human mad, indeed, but served to acclimate the heiress to her new home for the next half of a decade. It was her way of making the room her own, knowing full well that it was not given her on her own merit.

As the thought ate away at her mind, that this excessive room was appointed to her of her father’s will, a dull chiming caught Weiss’ ear. She ceased her touring, turning elegantly on the heel of her white dress-boot, and snatched the offending object from its rest on her nightstand.

“Speak of the devil, himself…” Weiss scoffed, reading the name displayed on her scroll with no small disdain.

Though she hesitated for a moment, considering the idea of ignoring it and attributing such to a missed call, the heiress opened the device and accepted the call. Three rings in, just as her father had always insisted she do.

_“Hello, Weiss.”_

Purposeful and succinct, ever the professional as he was. Swallowing her childish irritation, the heiress did her best to sound sincere and not the least put out.

“Hello, Father.”

_“I assume you’re finished settling into your room?”_

“Yes, Father, my things are put away appropriately.”

_“Have you familiarized yourself with your schedule?”_

“I am doing so as we speak, Father.”

Their conversations always seemed to proceed in this manner, as if a supervisor attending to his employee. As Weiss continued to answer her father’s questions, growing ever more impatient with his micromanaging interrogation, a tinge of sorrow almost seemed to well up in her stomach. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, per se, but had become gradually rarer as she had aged. Now well into her twenty-sixth year, Weiss had not felt this feeling in some time.

 _“I have another auspicious young man I’d like you to meet, Weiss.”_ Her father said, breaking the heiress from her ruminations, _“He’s a promising young entrepreneur who has recently been appointed as the head of a successful Dust research group. I think you’d hit it off swimmingly.”_

There it was, the entire reason for this farce of a wellness call. Weiss’ mind had set to wandering during the first half of their conversation, assured that this would eventually be revealed as the subject matter. Though she would never think of outright refusing or objecting to these attempts, the heiress detested this above all her father’s idiosyncrasies.

“If my studies permit, I will meet him, Father.” Weiss replied, almost like a machine.

This was not the first, as suitors had been thrown at her consistently since she came of age to date, and would certainly not be the last. Thus, the heiress merely acquiesced as politely and convincingly as possible, having no interest to speak of in any of these men.

 _“Very good, see to it you concentrate on your lessons and make some time.”_ He replied, _“I’ll keep in touch. Goodbye, Weiss.”_

The sound of her father hanging up chirped loudly in the heiress’ ear, ending the call before she had time to say her own goodbyes.

“Talk to you later… Dad.” Weiss whispered to the empty room, her icy eyes fixated on the communicating device still open in her hand.

Without realizing it, a tear tickled her cheek as it slid off her face and onto the screen of her scroll. The same feeling that teased her heartstrings earlier, a feeling that had not visited her this much in many years, throbbed noticeably in her bosom. With an irritated cluck of her tongue, Weiss wiped the moisture from her face and the device, shutting it and placing it upon her nightstand once more.

As she set about to reading her class schedule in earnest, the heiress’ thoughts turned once more to the subject of her suitors. It had started around her sixteenth birthday, when she had been accepted into a prestigious college unusually early. Time after time, her father would find eligible bachelors of no small pedigree or renown, insisting that she meet and consider them. It seemed well enough at first, having such ready access to considerable individuals, but the truth had eventually dawned on her.

One was the son of a wealthy partner, a partner who had been dissatisfied with the company and considered selling out. One had been the younger, much younger, brother of a well-to-do merchant, with whom her father wished desperately to conduct business. Different stories colored different shades of the same deceitful murk, it always seemed to lead back to her being a pawn on a chessboard. This was when Weiss had had enough, growing ever more disillusioned each new suggested suitor.

“A psychology class, hm?” she mused to herself, half paying attention to the booklet in her hand.

The heiress’ mind swam all around creation as she multitasked, ruminating and reading while sipping a cup of ice water. This was just another day wrapping up for the young Schnee, one in which she continued her motions as she prepared to break herself free of her family’s shadow.

“Sorry, _Father_ , but it seems my schedule is looking too full for even I to carve time out of it…”

She flipped through the booklet for a fifth time, having almost entirely ingested and committed its contents to memory. This last scanning of the pages was more for the sake of obsessiveness than anything else. Finally, her task completed, the heiress shut the booklet and carried it to her desk. She opened up a drawer and put it away, neatly and orderly, before returning to her earlier task of looking the room over.

The sun was now setting outside, its twilight hues gleaming through a marvelous bay window. Weiss noticed this in passing as she meticulously went about her evening ritual, shedding her waking outfit and donning her eveningwear. At this time of year, in this part of Atlas, the setting sun indicated quite the late hour and the heiress was quite consistent with her bedtime.

With practiced speed and precision, she made herself ready and retired for the night, snuggling up under a posh cover. As she lay on the plush mattress, another gift of her father’s affluence, the heiress’ mind wandered somewhat before sleep took her.

“I suppose I could have been a huntress, to get away from this dreg.” She muttered, eyes growing heavy as she stared at the ceiling, “Heaven knows, Father would have thrown a fit over that…”

 

Љ

 

The weeklong orientation came and went with little of interest occurring, aside from Weiss’ odd encounter with a most interesting fellow student. The silver-eyed vixen had caught her eye for all of a moment before her incessant chatter dissuaded further interest. Yet, aside from this, it was merely a week of introduction to classes and issuance of books. It had passed smoothly and given way to the first true week of university.

Now the heiress was fully engaged, her mind locked onto the target of academics. With an unusual eagerness, she had dressed herself to the nines in order to make the best impression possible on her first real day of class. After having checked her uniform over many times, Weiss had made her way to the designated muster for her group. Though made up of individuals with different focuses than herself, the group shared enough classes to be assigned homeroom together.

Upon entering, she quickly made her way to her assigned seat, sitting down and arranging her things accordingly. Hands folded and posture confident, Weiss watched as her fellows gradually filed into the classroom. She had arrived purposefully early, as she ever did, and was less than surprised to see a veritable trickle of students following after her.

Those icy blue eyes scanned the room, observing the now familiar details, as a figure approached unnoticed. The figure sat beside her rather mutedly, the heiress failing to notice its presence.

“Weiss!” a very girlish voice called, loudly interrupting the heiress’ thoughts.

With a start, she turned to her addresser and was less than pleased to see who it was. There sat a familiar woman, whose name escaped Weiss’ memory, with her familiar silver eyes trained eagerly upon the heiress.

“I’m sorry,” she began, clearing her throat, “who are you, again?”

Weiss had hoped to dissuade the overly friendly woman from further interaction, by way of seeming aloof and uninterested. Much to her dismay, from either ignorance or lack of concern, the woman seemed unfazed by the response.

“Don’t you remember, from orientation?” she asked, smiling wide as possible, “Ruby Rose, your partner in Psychological Sciences and Business Ethics!”

Weiss’ level of irritation took a dangerous ascent at this, dreading the thought of being stuck with such an individual for even the one class. It wasn’t enough to be insulted by being assigned a partner when, in her eyes at least, she was fully capable of excelling on her own. By some stroke of bad luck, as it seemed, it would be one with whose personality she clearly did not well mesh.

“Yes, well, just try not to be a hindrance.” Weiss replied bluntly, turning to face the professor’s lectern, “If we must be partners, then please take a page from Business Mechanics and be the _silent_ partner.”

Unseen by the heiress, as her view was focused keenly on the lectern below, Ruby merely flashed a wide grin in response. The friendly woman chuckled softly and turned her gaze likewise, watching for the professor to enter and begin the class. It seemed Weiss’ harsh greeting had none of the desired effect.

The two sat in palatable silence for a good twenty minutes as the classroom filled with the rest of its attendees. Another five minutes after this, the professor herself marched confidently into the room, striding gracefully to her place behind the lectern. When Weiss’ eyes first caught sight of the woman, whose bearing eerily matched the heiress’, a cold sweat began to form upon her.

“This isn’t happening…” she muttered under her breath, just quiet enough not to be heard by her desk-mate.

There, at the front of the classroom, stood an all too familiar individual. Pure white hair tied neatly in a bun, porcelain pale skin peeking from under a militaristic uniform. Icy blue eyes filled with the confidence of a thousand soldiers, their gaze passing over each and every face in the room. A basket-hilted cutlass draped neatly on her hip, silvery finish gleaming in the synthetic light of the room.

Undoubtedly, no less than a few students were likely wondering why their teacher was armed. Weiss, however, was more concerned with why this woman was here in the first place. The heiress’ throat nearly closed shut with trepidation when the woman addressed the class.

“Good morning, students.” She spoke evenly, eerily calm, “I’ll be replacing the professor you met during orientation, starting today, for the duration of your attendance.”

Now dreading the coming years, Weiss was visibly sweating and perhaps even shivering in her seat.

“My name is Winter Schnee and expect you all to go above and beyond with your performance in my class.”

The heiress wanted desperately to slam her head upon her desk, yet held herself together admirably in the face of this entirely unwanted development. On the bright side, however, the day had nowhere to go but up from here.

 

Ͼ

 

Three weeks went by with relative ease, not accounting for the anxiety of being under her sister’s tutelage. The daily grind of this university was little challenge to the heiress, her experiences already tempered with previous college attendance. Even her desk-mate, the ever-cheerful Ruby Rose, proved to be little detriment to her capability to concentrate and excel. This paved way for Weiss to prepare to indulge in a habit she had thus far ignored, one she had developed since joining the age of majority.

This evening, as the last rays of sunlight shone through her bay window, Weiss was busy readying herself for a nocturnal endeavor. Her classwork complete, subjects studied and memorized for the upcoming battery of quizzes, the young Schnee glanced over a map of the area on her scroll. She had spent each night of the last week walking the grounds of the university, inasmuch as she needed to, and noting the areas of least traffic.

All this in the name of a private pursuit, one which she absolutely had to keep from her peers. None could know, none could see her heading off into the night. This fact was cemented by the attire which she now prepared.

Having read the map to satisfaction, Weiss placed the device, now shut, upon her desk and stood. With graceful steps, she approached the oaken wardrobe and opened it. There, from the bottom, she removed a medium sized box and returned with it to her desk.

The box was of little note aside from its sturdy make and tough lock. The glimmering bit of metal cast a ray of sunlight, caught from the nearby window, in all directions. It was made of a particularly tough alloy, one which few could afford, and securely held the contents of its charge away from prying eyes.

Placing the box on her desk, Weiss then reached over and flipped a switch on the side of the bay window. With a hushed whir, the window became suddenly dark, blotting out the only source of light in the room. The panes, made of a particularly deceitful strain of dust, had changed from translucent to opaque.

“Ancillary lights, on. Set to dim.” Weiss called out, just loud enough for the room’s computer to pick up.

A line of bulbs over the desk, hidden under the edge of the ceiling, came to life slowly. Just as commanded, the room’s AI kept the illumination just bright enough that the heiress could see the box before her. That, and her own image in a nearby body mirror.

With gentle motions, Weiss reached behind her neck and took hold of a delicate silver chain. She carefully undid the clasp and removed it and the object strung upon it. Pulled from its hiding place within her bodice, a lusterless silvery key glinted faintly in the dim light from above. With practiced movements, she then placed it within the lock of the box and turned carefully, three times. Three faint pops could barely be heard, followed by a fourth click, as the tumblers within were released.

Placing the chain back around her neck, reaffixing the clasp and slipping the key into its hiding place, Weiss opened the box and looked upon its contents.

“Let’s see what this city has to offer…” she muttered.

From the box, she first removed a long black coat. She set it, folded, over her chair and went about removing her uniform. After donning a guise of inconspicuous street clothes, she returned to the coat and slipped it over top. Pulling up the hood of the coat, she then removed the box’s other item.

In her hand, Weiss held a very intricately carved mask of darkened steel, matching well the coat that now sat upon her shoulders. The patterns upon it were murals of fire and storms, a popular motif for militaries of foreign lands. Satisfied that this would serve her purpose well, the heiress placed the mask back within the box. After removing the coat, returning it to the box as well, she shut and latched the container.

“Door light, on. Set to dim. Time to five minutes.” She called out, turning and walking toward the door. “Ancillary lights, off.”

As Weiss exited her room, box in tow, the AI system followed her commands to the letter. The posh, private dorm room was entirely devoid of light as the heiress left the university grounds.

 

Ͼ

 

The city of Constance, which only came to exist in the shadow of the Schnee Dust Company’s massive university, was aptly known as the University City. A sprawling metropolis, housing businesses which employed, almost exclusively, interns of the university, one had to make use of a central transit system to get anywhere important. Thus, it was here that Weiss found herself starting her journey into the seedier parts of this massive city.

The heiress stood at her designated platform, her foot tapping the ground impatiently, within the MTU Central Transit Hub. Her ticket in hand, ready to show the doorman when the train arrived, had the name of a very high-class establishment emblazoned upon it. It read, simply, Olympus Heights, and designated her as a guest of the prestigious hotel.

The train arrived precisely three minutes before its scheduled time, its doors opening with an audible pop as the pressure within was released. Weiss stepped on, showing her ticket to the attending doorman, and quickly took a seat beside the door. Much to her relief, there were few other passengers at this time of night. Clutching the box tightly upon her lap, the heiress passed the time by reviewing her memorized coursework.

This served her well, as the train pulled into its destination before she realized it. Having entirely failed to notice the passing scenery, which was, in no other words, indescribably beautiful, Weiss’ icy blue eyes shimmered whimsically upon exiting.

All around her were the myriad golden hues cast by the softly lit marble of the hotel’s grandiose platform. Here, in this station contained within the hotel, one found the only means of entry to this monolithic establishment. Indeed, the young Schnee had spared no expense from her personal account for this weekend’s venture.

At the back of the massive platform, past the turnstiles and automated ticket booths, stood a gargantuan pair of doors. Made of some lavish wood, gilded to the nines with gold and platinum, they towered very near twenty meters tall. Just a little farther and they would have been to the ceiling, touching the mural of cherubs and clouds upon its façade. The heiress was somewhat taken aback by the sheer splendor, despite the equivocal resplendence of her own home.

With the loud clicking of her high heels trailing behind her, Weiss walked briskly across the station proper and through that massive entrance. The gargantuan doors gave off a sense of warmth and safety as she passed between them, their massive size seeming to beg a feeling of security. Yet, upon entering, the view of the station was entirely crushed in comparison to the interior lobby.

Weiss nearly dropped the box she held in her arms, so shocking was the extravagance that greeted her icy eyes. Floors adorned with handspun rugs, colored luxurious shades of burgundy and bronze. Walls graced with murals of deified hunters and huntresses of yore, their eternal battles committed to legend with golden and jeweled inlays. A mural upon the ceiling, accompanied with a set of grand chandeliers, depicted the founders of the Schnee Dust Company.

The heiress had to catch herself from tipping, so oddly craned was her neck in admiration of the view. Realizing that she was in full view of the public, though the public comprised few individuals at this late hour, she resumed her posture and proceeded toward the receptionist’s plaza.

“Greetings to you, Ma’am.” A comely young woman greeted her, bowing deeply, “How may I assist you this evening?”

Without a word, Weiss held the ticket she’d boarded the train with out to the woman. With another bow, much shallower than before, she took and placed the ticket on an odd little box. The box lit up briefly, brightly, before a sharp chirp sounded accompanied by a green light. Retrieving the ticket and offering it back to the heiress, the receptionist bowed once more, just as deeply as the first time.

“We hope you enjoy your stay with us, Ma’am.”

Once more, Weiss ignored the woman and simply took her ticket, making her way for a glass-faced elevator. Upon entering, she rode it to the forty-fourth floor, where the suite she had reserved awaited her, and exited quickly upon arrival.

Hardly stopping to admire the surroundings, equally posh as the massive lobby and train platform, she made her way quickly through the hall.

“Fourteen… seventy-seven.” She muttered to herself, the sought after door coming into view at the end of the hallway, “Time to spend the weekend in some real style, without Daddy’s wallet.”

Weiss walked up to the door, placing her ticket against a panel just to the right of the frame. Just as the box at the receptionist’s plaza, the device hummed to life and flashed briefly before a chirp resounded. Without the accompanying green light, the door displayed, in a cursive font, a welcoming greeting.

“Welcome to Olympus Heights, honored guest!” an automated voice said smoothly, “We hope you enjoy the Olympian Suite!”

After this display, which noticeably irritated the heiress’ impatience, the door clicked hollowly and swung inward.

“Oh, the trappings of wealth…” Weiss muttered, crossing the threshold.

Once in, as the door shut firmly behind her, she immediately set about to readying herself for the real fun. In a matter of minutes, she had tied her flowing, snowy locks into a tight bun, much like her sister’s, and donned her coat. Jet black covering upon her, hood pulled up over her head, the heiress added the final touch.

With her mask satisfactorily in place, Weiss left the suite and made her way for the train platform once more.

 

Ͽ

 

The marvelous University City held many a wondrous and fantastic sight, easily attracting tens of thousands to it every month. Tourists and vacationers, philanderers and gamblers, people of all walks and inclinations of life. The Schnee Dust Company had built itself a reputation over its many decades of existence, colored a darker shade recently by such practices as this city propagated. Though the city catered as much to outsiders as it did to the students of its namesake university, there was indeed temptation aplenty.

A vice for every niche, a poison for every palate.

A certain area of the city, however, was almost entirely dedicated to the worst aspects of humankind in general. Named as the Oasis District, this was to be a place of hedonism and respite from societal constraints and the norm. If asked, the founders of this section of the city would proclaim its necessity to facilitate outside ideas and thought from pupils. Of course, if asked, a snake oil salesman would tell you his swill can cure whatever ails you.

All around this district were clubs and bars, casinos and houses of ill repute, decorated with designs harkening to the deserts of Vacuo. Sandy fronts surrounding the buildings, spotted with palm trees and cacti, sat in place of lawns. Shining effigies of the sun seemed to adorn every entrance and street-visible façade of the buildings.

As the cloaked heiress meandered along, eyes darting from place to place, all sorts of individuals passed by. Groups of fraternity brothers and sisters, living up the high point of their lives thus far. Sharply dressed men and women, likely looking to flex their animal magnetism. Simple vagrants and drunks, likely come from all over to drown their worries and sorrows with chips and liquor.

Weiss ignored each and every passerby, her gaze intently searching for one establishment in particular. An enterprise she had found whilst scouring the web, which had duly garnered her interest, was the entire reason for her venture this weekend.

When at last her perusing bore fruit, the heiress’ eyes landing upon a particularly extravagant sign, Weiss’ chest swelled with a familiar feeling. A sensation caught somewhere between excitement and anxiety, the selfsame feeling she assumed hunters and huntresses vied for. The feeling throbbed stronger and stronger, coming to a flame as she passed under the sign above the establishment’s entrance.

The heiress strode along the sandy walkway leading to the front gate, guarded by a suitably imposing individual. There was a line stretching entirely to the street from the entrance, a line which Weiss entirely ignored as she approached, filled predominately with anxious males awaiting their turn to be granted passage. The imposing man at the gate, likely a hunter of some small renown, held up a mighty hand as she stopped before him.

“Gonna need you to wait in line like the rest, Miss.” He thundered commandingly.

With hardly a word, without even looking upon her addresser, Weiss reached into her left pocket and withdrew a neatly rolled stack of paper. Removing a clip from it, she counted out a number of Lien bills and held them out to the man. He looked for only a moment before responding.

“Gonna need some ID, Miss.” He thundered once more, taking and pocketing the bills.

Scoffing audibly, Weiss once more counted out a number of bills and held them out to the man. This time, he did not address the heiress when he took them, stuffing the cash into the same pocket as before.

“Open up!” the man boomed, slamming the gate with his meaty fist.

The wrought iron gate, tall and striking, swung slowly open before Weiss. The imposing hunter stepped aside, bowing and thrusting one arm out toward the front door of the establishment. The heiress walked along the cobblestone path, her chest swelling yet again with that adored feeling.

“Enjoy your time at the Siren’s Call, Ma’am.” The guard’s voice thundered over her clacking footsteps.

An aptly named establishment for a suitably chosen venue, the Siren’s Call greeted Weiss expectedly as she pushed open the marbled door. Within was exactly what the heiress had come for, a plethora of exotic and entrancing beauties dancing to an exhilarating beat.

Weiss stopped for only a moment, with which to ascertain her surroundings and pick a suitable location from which to observe. A spot found, her chest felt ready to burst with the excitement of this taboo as she crossed the floor. She sat at a suitable booth, from which she could spy each and every dancer, and laid back as she made herself comfortable. It would be an absolute scandal if she were found, this she well knew, predicating the need for her seemingly over-the-top disguise.

The beat playing throughout the darkened room was deafening and electrifying. Bass tones thumping deeply beneath squealing, nearly chirping, lines of frantic music. The lighting accentuating the stage was perfection, a myriad of colors displayed evenly yet not overbearingly. The furnishings were properly posh and lavish, yet still comfortable. However, all of this absolutely paled, in the heiress’ mind, to the display before her on the stage.

At present, three dancers occupied a stage fashioned like three intersecting circles. Each clung to a shaft of silver-plated steel, stretching to the ceiling, as they twirled enchantingly along with the music. Faces covered with elegant masks, much like the heiress’, were the only thing to be hidden from view. The entirety of the rest of them shimmered gorgeously under the dancing lights, to the point that even the sweat upon their skin glimmered like jewels.

Of the three, two were bronze-skinned maidens likely brought from Vacuo, their lithe frames twisting and contorting in a host of acrobatic positions. One had hair of a flaxen shade, striped with runs of white and violet, that flowed long in her spinning wake. The other had locks of a burgundy hue, cut short and fluttering as she surged with the beat.

The last was a sight altogether inspiring, her porcelain skin looking as if it shone a light of its own. Long, limber legs swung enchantingly through the air as she performed a pirouette upon the pole. Sinuous locks, of a royal violet shade, danced along with her as she went, appearing entirely lost in her routine. Weiss felt herself drawn in by this one, far more so than the other two.

“Good evening, Madam.” Called a sweet voice, pulling the heiress from her fixation, “Might I get you something to drink?”

Weiss knew well that the libations were likely expensive to the point of ridicule, but decided to go all out on her first trip into her new stomping ground. After all, the point of cutting loose was to cut loose.

“Gin martini, shaken please.” She replied tersely.

“Very good, Madam. I’ll have it to you right away.” The waitress replied, bowing as she took a few steps back before turning and walking away.

Once more, Weiss turned her attention to the performers, admiring their flowing forms as she basked in their energy. The atmosphere was overwhelming, to say the least, after such a long period spent denying the habit. While watching the dancers intently, her mind wandering in a sea of adrenaline, Weiss failed to notice the waitress’ return.

“Here you are, Madam!” the woman called in the same singsong voice, “Will there be anything else?”

Having been more than a tad startled, Weiss turned and addressed the woman rather curtly.

“Yes…” she replied with some small venom, “You can leave me to my musings.”

Ignoring her cold attitude, the waitress simply smiled and decided to try and strike up a conversation. Weiss was more than a little disinclined to listen, ignoring most of the woman’s chatter until a certain bit caught her attention.

“You certainly picked a good night to attend, Madam, as we’re introducing our newest dancer shortly. From what I hear, she’s prettier and sweeter than the rest put together!”

“Is that so…” Weiss replied halfheartedly, her gaze still affixed to the stage.

“I hope you enjoy, Madam!” the waitress spoke, bowing as she prepared to leave the heiress to herself, “Please, don’t hesitate to let me know if I can get you a refill.”

The heiress ignored the woman, now thoroughly interested in the well talked of newbie. It seemed rather notable as well that her first attendance should coincide with such a talked up individual’s debut. Thus did Weiss anticipate the evening’s main attraction, gently sipping her martini as the current salvo of dancers finished their performance.

When at last it was over, the club’s loudspeakers came to life with an introductory announcement. Weiss’ interest, as well as her excitement, was peaked.

“Gentlemen, and Ladies, it is my pleasure to introduce to you the newest member of our family here at the Siren’s Call!” the voice spoke eloquently, “Please give a warm welcome to this shy beauty, joining us for her first performance anywhere, the exquisite Chrysanthemum!”

The music gradually slowed and quieted, until it had completely faded away, as all eyes in the club turned to the stage. No matter what had garnered their attention, whether private performances or chatter among groups, all now stopped and stared in expectation. A feather could have been heard as it fell through the air in the silence.

Much as rumored and whispered for the last week, though none of this had reached Weiss’ ears, the woman who walked upon the stage was hauntingly beautiful. Had one asked the heiress to, she could not have summoned the words from her vast vocabulary to give justice to this one’s beauty by virtue of description.

She stood perhaps a few hairs taller than the heiress, her frame lithe and fit as if perfection incarnate. Long, pale-blonde locks poured gracefully along her porcelain skin, which was entirely devoid of any imperfection. Her outfit was of a teal coloration, sensually lacey yet not overly revealing, and clung tightly to her form. Her chest, which shuffled lightly with each nervous step, was amply voluptuous against the rest of her features.

Sadly, much to the heiress’ chagrin, this avatar of perfection had her face hidden, much like the previous trio, behind an intricate mask. Carved of ebony wood, inlaid with what appeared to be thorned vines formed of gold-glowing Dust, it hid what was surely the literal face of perfection. Weiss might have been more upset by this if, immediately upon the commencement of the woman’s performance, she wasn’t entirely consumed by the enchantment of it.

No sooner than the new dancer had taken to her routine, the music came back with avengeance. The flashing lights came down, instantly leaving the room devoid of the whimsical colors, and were immediately replaced by a sharp spotlight. This, along with the new beat, served only to further increase the effectiveness of this newcomer’s spell.

The heiress was instantly, hopelessly, hooked to this entirely new sensation. Thusly did she spend her entire weekend, returning to watch this newest Siren.


	2. A Rose Among Weeds

Chapter 2

A Rose Among Weeds

 

Љ

 

In the weeks that followed Weiss’ chance encounter, in the posh club aptly named for its enchanting performers, the heiress’ mind was entirely consumed with haunting images of the Goddess-like woman. Chrysanthemum, the elegant beauty that danced on every waking fiber of her thoughts, was truly, by the heiress’ reckoning, beyond worthy of her namesake flower. Lithe and fragile by appearance, sleek and acrobatic in her motions, and a league apart from the previous and following acts.

Indeed, three weeks after that chance encounter, as the sun shined like a rainbow through the stained glass of the classroom windows, Weiss’ mind was anywhere but present. As the hollow, chittering sound of pencils scratching paper played the tune of learned minds persisting in their studies, or perhaps finishing up the last of the day’s quiz, the young Schnee was, in no other words, preoccupied.

The soft flutter of those golden locks almost seemed to materialize in place of the sun’s accented streaks of yellow, given pronounced life by the stained glass through which they passed. Her flawless, snowy-pale skin seemed to replace the nearly oppressing white produced by the fluorescent lamps above. Every sterile, dull detail of the schoolroom was taken and given a different aspect, a new definition, by the heiress’ wandering thoughts, spun through the persisting ripples left from Chrysanthemum’s performances into an aspect of pure perfection.

Weiss’ icy blue eyes were noticeably glossed, lost in her thoughts and daydreams as she was, as they sat locked to the front of the room, upon the lectern behind which a certain professor stood. Noticeable, that is, even to an untrained eye that would not normally pick up such an odd detail from a classmate or coworker. Thus, it goes without saying that the student which sat beside the heiress, a student who, much to Weiss’ chagrin, she was partnered with for this free-study time, would not normally be expected to spot such a detail were it not so blatantly obvious.

The woman’s silver eyes, the sort of silver of finely polished, display-only dinnerware, danced around her quiz-sheet as she desperately attempted to spot any wrong answers. If the heiress had looked, Weiss could have easily seen that the woman was distressed, most distinguishably by the fact that a cold sweat was blatantly shimmering on the flawless, pale skin of her forehead. The little bit of it that was left exposed under her pixie-cut locks, of a void-black coloration with hues of deep scarlet streaking through the last few inches, held a clear sheen of nervousness.

As the normally bubbly woman scanned her paper, chewing on her tooth-marked pencil in the process, not a thought was spared from the heiress. So much so, in fact, was her aloofness, this alone eventually caught her partner’s attention.

By this point, having been joined together for a number of weeks, the two had been exposed to each other’s idiosyncrasies and had developed particular reactions in response. When Weiss’ aloof manner would become noticeably pronounced, usually during a lecture or lesson which she felt was beneath her, Ruby would garner her attention only to flash a disarming smile or some other such motion of cheerfulness. Conversely, when the heiress’ partner would begin chewing on her pencil or pen, usually during a lesson or lecture that was straddling the limits of her understanding, Weiss would be quick to chide or otherwise stop her.

Thus, it struck Ruby as incredibly odd when, upon giving up on finding the errors she was sure lurked somewhere on her paper, she noticed the heiress seemed not to care in the slightest that she had been crunching on the wooden implement for the better portion of half an hour. In fact, as the silver-eyed vixen peered closer, physically leaning toward her desk-mate, two more things struck her as quite off.

The first, and likely most prominent, was that Weiss did not move or twitch in the slightest as Ruby’s face inched toward hers. The second, and damningly affirmative, indicator was the barely perceptible slack to the heiress’ painstakingly maintained expression, something Weiss had not allowed to drift from professional since the woman had met her. Even in her angriest moments, when Ruby had pushed the heiress’ buttons just a tad too far, her expression had never erred from a cold display of utter confidence.

“Hey, Weiss…” Ruby whispered, careful not to alert the professor at her podium.

The woman’s face was perhaps only a half meter from the heiress’, which had placed her in an oddly tilted posture, as she silently attempted to draw some sort of reaction. Had she known the depth to which the daydreaming had stolen the heiress’ mind, Ruby might have given up then and there. Yet, she did not and thus continued.

“Weiss, did you forget something on the quiz?” Ruby whispered once more.

The heiress still did not respond, her head leaning against her perfectly manicured right hand as she seemed to stare into the void itself.

 

Ͼ

 

Weiss’ face still held the flush of anger and embarrassment, a scarlet hue left lingering by the faux pas she had so absentmindedly committed earlier in the day. Her brain was abuzz and swimming with all sorts of heated thoughts: thoughts of her foray into the city, for which she presently busied herself preparing; thoughts of her sister’s face, flushed the selfsame scarlet as her own after Weiss’ outburst; thoughts of Ruby, the irritating thorn the heiress sorely wished to be rid of.

As she set about the last of her preparations, slipping on a sleek, black top to match a pair of jet-black tights, Weiss duly considered the prospect of having to deal with the annoyingly cheerful classmate for another five years. This thought, which had run through her mind no less than ten times in the last hour alone, knotted her stomach more than she cared to admit.

Pushing the ruminations from her skull, as she bunched up and tied her silken hair, Weiss resolved once more that, as a Schnee, she would persevere through whatever she must to attain her goals. Goals which, even against the watchful eye of her sister, still burned like wildfire in her heart, showing no stutter under the icy shadow.

Once all was done, her hair ready to be hidden under the hood of her coat and her street clothes in order, Weiss crossed her room to the desk upon which a certain box sat. The ordinary make of it spoke nothing of the meticulously bespoke piece which hid within, awaiting faithfully to shield its master’s identity from prying eyes. Weiss placed her hands upon it, ready to take it up and leave for her midnight gallivanting, when the day’s earlier mishap overtook her once more.

The look on Winter’s face, of utter disappointment and contempt. The feigned-innocent grin Ruby had given her after all was said and done. What she had shouted in a moment of unbridled fury after having been rudely pulled from her intoxicating daydream. It all flooded back to her as her hands touched the cold surface of the box, its temperature particularly pronounced due to Weiss’ elevated body heat.

She merely gritted her teeth as she pushed the thoughts from her mind, instead turning back to the excitement of seeing her favorite performer again for mental succor. With this and her preparations completed, Weiss turned from the desk and crossed the room in a lively jaunt.

“Ancillary lights, off.” She barked, “Door light, on. Time to five minutes.”

The room did as it was told, the AI within carrying out its master’s orders as the young Schnee nearly flew through the door.

 

Ͼ

 

The train ride to the hotel was just as long and uneventful as ever, with nothing of particular note occurring. The same scenery whizzed by in an indistinct blur as Weiss sat in her seat, her mind filled with the same feverish thoughts that had plagued her since the first. Now, those thoughts had some small company, though the impact was by and far negligible.

When the train pulled into the grandiose station of Olympus Heights, its telltale whistle signaling the end of the journey, the heiress’ ruminations were halted. She stood from her seat with renewed purpose, crossing the aisle and disembarking onto the platform. Her heels clicked with a pointed hollowness, a distinct sort of sound that indicated one was in somewhat of a hurry.

She crossed the platform quickly, almost robotically, as she headed for the plaza, swiping her ticket upon arrival and heading toward the hotel’s massive entrance without delay. There, just before crossing the threshold into the lobby proper, a bit of signage caught Weiss’ icy-blues.

It had been posted all along the central station, as well as the small hub near the school, and even within the train itself. Alas, just as earlier when the heiress committed her faux pas, the young Schnee’s mind was far away during her journey. She had failed entirely to notice the smaller, less prominent signs scattered all about.

These posters, however, were massive and vibrantly decorated, plastered to the gargantuan doors that led into the lobby. The paper had a metallic-golden coloration with large silver letters raised in a cursive font to catch the eye of any passersby. It had done its job well, the heiress now halted in her tracks as she digested the posted message.

 

_Join the staff of the Olympus Heights Hotel_

_in welcoming the graduates of the Schnee_

_Dust Company’s Management Training_

_University! Starting on the 5 th, in one week’s_

_time, we will be hosting the Fifth Year’s_

_Goodbye Ceremony on behalf of the_

_University._

_So, come one and all as we bid farewell_

_to these brilliant minds and send them_

_off to do the Company proud!_

****

Weiss scoffed audibly as she read the last of it, resuming her eager pace into the hotel. It almost turned her stomach to think on just how far the populace would go to please her father’s company. On another day, when such a treat as awaited her was not so close at hand, Weiss might have fully been taken up with thoughts of her father’s suitors once more.

The last one had been almost a total joke in the heiress’ mind, blathering on and on about his family and company. The man had not stopped talking for even a moment during the entire dinner, one which Weiss had desperately striven to wriggle out of attending. The heiress had merely bobbed her chin, nodding in feigned attention, as the braggart blithered on into the night.

The moment she had stopped paying him any mind at all was when, after twenty minutes at the table, she spied the position the young man’s eyes seemed glued to. Despite her better judgement, Weiss had worn an alluringly low-cut dress with a flowing hem, snowy white with scarlet accents. Though her attire had to some degree invited the attention, the heiress was nonetheless appalled by the man’s boorish manner.

The high-pitched chime of the hotel elevator came suddenly and unexpectedly, pulling Weiss back to the present. Once the doors had opened, she stepped out and made her way quickly to her room, now rented for an extended period. With each muffled click of her heels upon the hallway carpet, she pushed the day’s less appetizing thoughts from her mind.

Once inside her room, as the door clicked behind her, Weiss spared no time whatsoever in donning her getup. She nearly threw the box onto the massive bed at the center of the suite, retrieving the key from her neckline and opening it immediately. She then withdrew the coat and tossed it over her shoulders, thrusting her arms through the sleeves just a tad rougher than she should’ve.

At last, her disguise all but ready, the heiress took a moment to slow down. She leaned over, just a few degrees, and looked at the dully shimmering mask in its velvety resting place. The blackened steel surface seemed to eat the light cast upon it, giving off an almost ethereally dull glow. The intricate carvings of fire and storms seemed to dance in the light as she picked it up, tilting it from side to side absentmindedly. Her thoughts wandered once more, straining to imagine the face that rested beneath Chrysanthemum’s mask.

“I wonder if men stare at _her_ face…” Weiss hummed to herself, placing the mask back in its box.

Being that time was no object this night, as the weekend had once more come, she stepped over to a nearby floor mirror. It rested on indistinct metal legs, propped up in a corner of the room for the vain to preen over themselves before venturing into the night.

Weiss pulled down her hood, allowing the light to fully caress her nearly perfect visage. There, her reflection in full view, she gingerly brought her left hand to her face. With an almost fearful tenderness, she ran two fingers across the left side, from the center of her forehead to just below her cheekbone.

“I wonder…” she hummed again, tracing her fingers over the deep scar upon her eye twice more.

 

Ђ

 

The week came and went, as uneventful as the heiress preferred it to be. Now Friday once again, and with no outbursts to embarrass her having occurred as yet, Weiss sat attentively in her seat as the psychology professor droned on over the day’s lesson. His moustache bounced comically with every word, drawing the occasional hushed giggle as his potbelly led his every step.

Every now and again, Weiss’ pen would scratch around briefly as she jotted down an important tidbit. For once, her mind was not entirely consumed by the very siren-appeal of the enchanting dancer, leaving her fully aware as she listened to the lesson. It was a hard-fought battle, retaining herself against the assaulting images, but one the heiress won out over in the end.

Yet, as she watched the professor, carefully taking in every word, something caught the corner of Weiss’ eye. She brushed it off at first, wanting nothing more to do with the woman who shared her learning-space. It was the odd, almost ticklish sound of a high-pitched snore that fully took her attention, drawing the heiress’ gaze from the professor to her partner.

There she sat, head laid carelessly over her crossed arms, just barely drooling as she slept through the class that constituted her major of study. The sight at first revolted the heiress, hitting a spot deep within her that valued dutiful application above nearly all else. Yet, in the few moments she watched the sleeping Ruby, another feeling was quick to take its place, however brief its stay.

Weiss momentarily recalled, just before deciding to wake the woman, a time when her own rigorous studies as a child had overwhelmed her, pulling her into an unintended nap in the middle of a lesson.

“Ruby Rose, wake up!” she hissed quietly as possible, nudging her sleeping partner with an elbow against her ribs.

Much to the heiress’ relief, the woman awoke almost immediately. Her head bolted upright with a snort, a nearly imperceptible trail of spittle following her lips, as her hauntingly silver eyes fluttered open. They were crossed at first, pulling lazily into focus as she blinked repeatedly.

“You’re supposed to be majoring in this subject, you dunce.” Weiss hissed again, this time with a hint of sympathy to her tone.

“I’m sorry, partner…” Ruby whispered in reply, flashing one of her usual goofy grins, “Had some late nights, but I’m trying!”

“You do or you don’t, there is no trying.” Weiss barked mutedly, quoting an old tutor of hers.

The man’s short, balding image briefly flashed across Weiss’ mental eye, bringing a tiny smile to the corners of her mouth as she recalled him. At the time, when she was just beginning her first lessons, the girl had drawn no end of amusement from the fact that this man was only just as tall as herself. Even to this day, the image of a little, balding man, hunched over his twisted wooden cane, standing only just as tall as a six-year-old girl, still tickled her.

“Meet me at the café when the break comes.” Weiss said, remembering how the little tutor had once treated her.

The lesson wrapped up smoothly enough from there, Ruby only nodding off a scant three times more as the professor droned on. When the hollow ding of the bell sounded, the woman was nearly ready to pass out as she leaned her face against her hand. Her silver eyes fluttered open, crossed with fatigue once again, only to notice the heiress missing.

She quickly gathered her books and papers, haphazardly shoveling them into a tiny backpack, before hopping up and making her way for the café.

She walked briskly through the halls, her mind gradually fraying as it began to surmise that she might be lost. Every corridor opened up into an equally bland hall, only a scant few signs hanging here and there to identify certain classrooms. Ruby picked up her pace, not wanting to waste her partner’s break time, when a sudden voice caught her ear. The woman nearly tripped over her own feet trying to halt her step.

“Over here!” came the call, almost accusatory in its tone.

Ruby spun around, having barely regained herself from the near fall, and peered through an otherwise unremarkable doorway.

The sliding doors opened up into a modestly appointed, cafeteria-styled room, lit with a warmer color of lighting than the rest of the university. There were inviting-looking tables within, round in shape and arranged just far enough apart to seat six with plenty of room for all. The lights above were an older model of bulb, a thin piece of metal within heated by fire-aspected dust to create a softer light than the surrounding fluorescents.

Weiss sat at a table off in the corner of the room, her seat nearly squished into the wedge formed where the two walls met at her back. Her icy-blue eyes were trained firmly on Ruby, a small hint of irritation glinting behind them. Quickly, the woman crossed the threshold into the café and made her way for the heiress.

“Took your time.” Weiss nearly spat.

“Sorry, Weiss.” Ruby replied nervously, pulling out a seat across from her and sitting down, “I think I drifted off again…”

Just as her rump found its place in the chair, a young woman seemed to pop up beside her from nowhere. She wore a painstakingly maintained uniform, the sort one would expect of any waitress worth her salt, and had a professional smile plastered across her face. Without a word, she placed a cup of steaming liquid, sitting on a simple saucer, directly in front of Ruby.

“Here you are, Ma’am.” She chirped happily, almost too much so, before leaving as quickly as she came.

Ruby looked down at the cup, smelling the slightly acrid aroma of fine coffee wafting from its surface, before returning her gaze to the heiress. The woman wore a clearly puzzled look, unsure of how to handle the situation.

“If you’re nodding off in class, you won’t do well on your quizzes and tests.” Weiss spoke up, very matter-of-factly, “If _you_ don’t do well, _I_ won’t do well.”

Once more, Ruby looked down at the cup and saucer. The liquid within was an almost tar-black color, its scent nearly screaming of its potency. Her silver eyes were reflected with the same puzzled look from the inky, rippling surface as the woman contemplated how to respond.

As she stared at the cup, an idea dawned upon her. Without hesitation, Ruby scanned the table for anything that resembled a menu. Her eyes quickly picked up the only thing with words written on it.

Reaching for the center of the table, where a triangular sign was placed with obsessive precision, Ruby grabbed what looked to be a menu. Her eyes flew across its surface, the woman quickly becoming alarmed as she read the contents.

“You paid thirty Lien for a coffee?!” she yelled, forgetting her manners in her shock, “For me?!”

The heiress turned her gaze, which had been absentmindedly pointed out the window as she reminisced on her childhood, to shoot her partner a sinister glare. Ruby sank in her seat under the ire of those icy-blues, nervously returning the little menu to the center of the table.

“I don’t know why you came here, Miss Rose…” Weiss began coldly, “Frankly, I don’t really _care_. However, I do care about my grades and, by proxy, I must care about yours to a degree.”

Weiss paused, giving Ruby a moment to straighten up as she relaxed the intensity of her glare.

“Tell me, did you even read the student handbook?” the heiress posed with no attempt to hide her exasperation.

Ruby only nodded a simple ‘yes’ in reply, eliciting an irritated tongue-cluck from the heiress.

“How well did you read it?” Weiss pressed further.

Ruby’s eyes fell to the cup, still steaming as the inky liquid sloshed around gently. She decided to give it a try, feigning deep thought as she took a careful sip of the hot beverage. She almost spat it out, being that it was nearly bitter as soap.

“I read the important-looking parts…” she replied timidly, carefully returning the cup to its saucer.

At this, Weiss suddenly stood up, bumping the table and nearly spilling the coffee on Ruby’s lap. Her icy-blues were leveled on the woman again, this time with a look of utter contempt. Ruby’s usually chipper attitude was so heavily strained by fatigue, she wanted desperately to sink into her seat and disappear. Under other circumstances, when the world was not colored by an exhausted lack of optimism, she might’ve responded with a disarming grin.

“I’ll make this simple, so you can follow along, alright?” Weiss seethed.

Ruby only nodded in reply.

“The handbook states that, as partners, our grades are directly connected. We will be given our final marks based on the performance of our partner, in order to foster a sense of workplace camaraderie. Ergo, if you fail or flunk out, then I fail.”

With that, the heiress turned and began to walk away, her heels clacking angrily on the tile floor. A few steps from the door, she stopped in midstride, bringing her foot slowly back to the floor. Ruby watched in faintly frightened silence as the heiress’ shoulders dropped a tad, her body language relaxing, if only a little.

“Drink up and hurry back, ok?” Weiss added before resuming her stride, gracefully clacking her way back to class.

Ruby looked back to the cup, not entirely keen on finishing the bitter libation, as her confused mind tried to discern the heiress’ intentions.

 

Ͽ

 

Weiss’ heart pounded hard in her chest as she stepped lively down the sidewalk, her pace carrying her ever closer to the establishment that had seen her patronage so much these last few weeks. The maddened beat in her chest resulted from a combination of excitement, at the commencement of another weekend basking in the glory of her obsession, and relief, at having evaded the crowd of fifth years that were undoubtedly engaged in lively celebration at the hotel. The perfect mixture of these two feelings, both feeding the adrenaline rush the heiress had become nearly addicted to, created a potent stimulant that propelled the taxed organ into overdrive.

So furious was her step, the long tail of her jet-black coat billowing behind her in an arid breeze, Weiss all but tossed over the bouncer as she passed by on her way through the iron gate leading to the Siren’s Call. The ox of a man stumbled back a few steps before catching himself, grunting as a tight roll of paper bills struck him square in the forehead. As Weiss crossed the inner courtyard, on course directly for the entrance, the man slowly counted out the cash.

Just as ever, staying the man’s justifiable anger at the unknown woman’s indifferent rudeness, there was exactly two thousand Lien in the roll. Cursing lightly under his breath, he pocketed the cash as the heiress disappeared into the club.

What met Weiss on the inside was, to say the least, an utter travesty. To her sense of anonymity, which held her together as she enjoyed the glow of her taboo forays, the massive, thronging crowd she walked into was absolute in its terror. She could almost hear her mind as it cracked, ever so slightly, at the sudden veer from the expected course.

The rowdy crowd was, unsurprisingly, made up almost exclusively of men, most of which were likely into their fifth or so alcoholic libation. Reddened faces hooped and hollered at the performers on stage, tufts of paper Lien dancing through the air as they were set free of drunken grasps. The smell of sweat and liquor was pungent and pronounced, amplified by the lights that spun in the ceiling above.

The heiress considered, however briefly, the notion of simply turning and leaving. From a logical standpoint, as she was so fond of, it absolutely would have been the right and proper thing to do. There would be other nights to gallivant in her anonymous solitude, other performances of her obsession to gawk at among less crowded surroundings. Yet, fate has a most intriguing manner of pulling one to the tune of its own harpsichord, tugging one’s marionette strings to dance as it pleases.

As the anxiety began to build past the point of pleasure, for which Weiss sought out these hidden sojourns, the thudding beat of the club died all at once. The lights stopped their spin, turning from a rainbow of colors into a soft, unmoving white. All bodies stopped their various motions at once as if on cue, from the dancers on stage to the liquor-addled fifth years below.

The heiress, as well, was caught up in the ethereal lull that passed over the crowd.

“Fifth year graduates of the Schnee University!”

The voice came from nowhere, tearing easily through the odd silence that had descended over the room like little more than cheap tissue paper. The announcer’s voice was dry, as though his throat were desperately parched, and held a sense of manic energy behind it.

Weiss’ interest was piqued, her trepidation ceasing its assault within her mind.

“We all know why you’re here tonight, don’t we?!”

The announcer boomed his almost frantic tone over the speakers once more, the energy in his question now infecting the voices of the crowd below. The throng of newly graduated company men, drunken stupor be damned, roared their reply like soldiers in mid-drill.

“She’s been the talk of the town these last weeks, bringing in visitors from far and wide to watch her spellbinding spectacle!”

Cheers now, an incoherent wave of haphazard claps and clicks, as the crowd energized under the announcer’s commandingly captivating voice.

“The shy beauty that ain’t afraid to bare it all!”

Drunken shouts and maddened applause.

“The flower of the midnight hour!”

Slurred shouts of anxious anticipation.

“The one, the only…”

It became quickly deafening as the crowd devolved.

 “Chrysanthemum!”

Suddenly, as the crowd seemed ready to degenerate entirely into a rioting mob, the lights were killed in unison. Not a shred of luminescence shone anywhere in the club, shadows and darkness consuming the sight of all. In another time, when her own heart was not so gripped with anticipation, Weiss might’ve wondered at the cost of insuring such a wild establishment.

As her icy-blues wandered through the fetid darkness, futilely attempting to grasp any vision at all, a sound began to chime from the direction of the stage. Soft at first, it came on slowly and evenly like a lullaby. The chords that plucked the air strummed a harmoniously composed tune, etching high pitches of soft melody into every ear.

Weiss’ heart skipped a beat, her mind softening like warm putty as the haunting line carved apart her senses. It goes without saying that, in their besotted haze, the mass of graduates was equally, if not more so, tranquilized by this new sound. It continued in this manner for a good three, maybe four, minutes as there bloomed a dim, lone light above the stage.

Instantly, with some small sight returned, the heiress’ gaze was trained to a figure haunting beyond compare. It was hard to discern at first, the dimness of the light teasing its way slowly back to proper luminescence. Yet, it was undeniable as well.

She stood there, wrapped tightly in a clinging dress of silken make, the threads colored the endless black of what surely lay beyond this life. Her head was bowed in a posture of prayer, flaxen locks obscuring her already hidden face. Tiny snippets of snow-white flesh peeked shyly from elegant floral patterns woven into the dress, glowing like a divine spirit in the brightening light.

As the retinue of classical tones reached an even, droning rhythm, the Goddess onstage made the first of her moves. From under the hem of her dress, which pooled on the floor like a mire of hedonistic lavishness, came a foot clad in a shimmering black stiletto. It rested firmly, purposefully in front of her, the long heel clicking charmingly on the stage.

From there and for the next handful of minutes, Weiss’ mind was utterly sundered and scattered to the four winds. The flurry of elegant motions and supple contortions, as the Goddess flowed over the stage like divine water, served as only the appetizer for what was yet to come. Even still, it tore down every defense the heiress had raised to keep herself obscured during her debauchery.

The moment Weiss lost all control, the moment fate’s puppeteering strings took her undeniably in their grasp, came when the Siren’s mouth first opened. It was sealed from here as a melody, the likes of which Weiss could hardly fathom, poured forth in utter perfection from the dancer’s lungs.

The heiress’ attention was trapped in full by the sound, every note as if a link in a mighty chain that bound her mind in place. Each tonal inflection as the Goddess chanted, the lyrics a compellingly dismal array of emotional fury, sank her consciousness deeper into the trance.

This was it, the feeling she had been seeking with every attendance of this mysterious woman’s performance. This was the feeling for which the heiress had been yearning. A state of blissful complacency as her mind was freed of its logical bonds, set loose to roam the vagaries of her obsession’s enchanting tune.

As she continued to watch and listen, her mind lost in the ecstasy of it all, Weiss noticed nothing of the resuming vitality in the crowd that surrounded her. During the buildup of the main event, as Chrysanthemum had begun her siren tune, the heiress’ feet had carried her unwittingly into the thronging audience.

She stood now, lost in herself, lost in the chanting vixen’s vocals, as the graduates all around resumed their lively motions. Most were drunk, sloshed beyond measure, as their bodies pulsed in rhythm with the spectacle. The occasional shoulder or rump nudged the heiress unintentionally, pushed by the unwitting frolicker, but she did not notice. In fact, she likely would not have cared if she had.

This was the moment that fate’s strings played true, their grip around the heiress’ essence all but absolute. Its envoy, the harbinger of the role she would soon be thrust into, was to be a particularly hefty-built man. Just on the cusp of his twenty-eighth year, living up the last of his freedom before taking up an executive position in the Company, he threw every besotted ounce of himself into his wild dancing.

As Weiss stood enthralled with Chrysanthemum’s performance, the angelic call reaching its zenith, this oxen man tripped expertly over his own clumsy feet. In what could only be described as divine comedy, the lumbering brute spun twice in a drunken twirl before crashing into the heiress, knocking her over gracelessly with his massive girth.

Weiss, pulled rudely from her blissful trance, tumbled ass over teakettle into the bottom of the stage on which her obsession still sang. In but a moment’s time, the furious heiress was on her feet and ready to tear the blithering oaf apart with her extensive lexis. With unbridled rage coursing through her veins, the siren song of Chrysanthemum now far and away from her attention, Weiss leaned into her first step toward the man when a coppery taste stole her awareness.

She lifted a hand, her right to be precise, to her face so as to lift her mask and feel for the source of the bleed. Horror set in almost immediately as her palm came in contact with flesh, no steel façade to be had. In dumbfounded shock, Weiss tapped the flesh of her lips dreamily in hopes she might be suffering a hallucination or something similar.

It was no use, the hiding implement having been lost in her violent tumble. Her icy eyes skittered frantically across the floor, their gaze searching in the low light for the lost object. When it quickly became apparent that she would not find it, Weiss’ eyes instinctively, and for a reason she might never know, lifted to the Goddess onstage behind her.

To her shock, sending the heiress into a mental tailspin, the woman was staring back at her from behind her own false visage.

 

α

 

Weiss’ feet pounded hard on the pavement, the stiletto heels broken off some short distance into her frantic exodus. Her gait was clumsy and ragged, frightened tears streaking hot down her cheeks. Her lungs filled painfully with air as she stamped the ground, placing long, hard steps between herself and the Siren’s Call.

Her mind was gone, lost entirely in shock, as she made off into the night. The hood of her coat still hid most of her features from the crowds she bumbled through. Even still, the heiress felt as though she might die at any moment of the feral embarrassment.

Her thoughts blank, Weiss rounded a corner that turned just beyond a closed bank, pushing her rambling form to keep up its flight. The broken heel on her left foot found no purchase as she tried to continue her terror induced sprint, slipping out from under her weight with no semblance of grace. She fell suddenly, painfully, and rolled a few times before coming to a stop just in front of a dark alleyway.

Now, the heiress was no particular fool. Under any sensible circumstances, she would have nothing to do with such a blatantly dangerous place. These, however, were not even remotely normal circumstances, her feverishly scattered mind the epitome of incoherence. With not a thought, only wanting to hide herself from sight, Weiss scrambled into the darkness.

She quickly found some sort of nook within which to hide herself, crawling under an object she couldn’t quite make out and hugging her knees to her chin. She sat there for what felt like years, sobbing hard as she imagined the implications of this penultimate blunder.

Weiss Schnee, heiress apparent to the Schnee Dust Company, caught frolicking in a gentleman’s club under flagrant disguise. Weiss Schnee, poised to take over her father’s massive, military-industrial company, found fawning over exotic dancers in the seedy part of the University City. Weiss Schnee, disowned and dishonored by her own hand, cut loose from the future she had so striven for since her earliest memories.

The tears wouldn’t stop, their scalding trails like streams of magma over her rosy cheeks. Her nose clogged, leaving her gasping in shivering spasms for air, as the torrent raged outside of her control. She had been so lost, so utterly disarmed by the siren song, her mind was left as bare as a newborn babe to this attack, initiated by her own hand though it may be.

Quickly, the heiress’ mind was shutting down, ripping what little remained of her cognizance from her. As she sat crouched with her knees drawn, under what would turn out to be a leaning stack of pallets, she imagined briefly what the dancer must have thought. It never occurred to her, not in the slightest, that the look behind the elegant mask might be anything other than revulsion.

As she sobbed and hiccupped, obnoxiously loud in the dead-silence of the alley, a dull clacking resounded from the far end of the byway. Were her wits about her, rather than lost to feral humiliation, Weiss would’ve known that familiar, hollow sound. It was the sort of click-clack of dexterous feet in high stilettos, tapping melodically on the dark cement.

Her reaction was predictable as the heiress sank against the brick wall under which she sat, trying without success to scrunch up and disappear. Whoever, or whatever, was making that noise, she wanted nothing more than to not be found by it. When the sound stopped suddenly, as if the perpetrator had simply vanished, Weiss’ heart nearly stopped along with it. She sat there in petrified silence, waiting for whatever might come.

“Weiss!” called a familiar voice, the identity of which was lost to the frantic heiress.

She held her breath, bidding her heart to cease, as the click-clacking steps resumed.

“Weiss, it’s ok!” the voice called again, spearing her soul with terror anew.

The click-clack drew closer, the hollow tap accentuated through the acoustics of the alley, until it was just outside the heiress’ hiding spot. She was ready to check out, mentally and emotionally, as the anxiety built relentlessly.

“No one else saw you, Weiss!” the voice chimed again, a hint of moroseness behind it, “Please, come out! I can help you!”

It was simply too much for the poor heiress’ strained mind to cope with as her limbs began to move on their own. What little faculty might’ve remained had fled in exodus, leaving the woman little more than a frightened shell as she quit her hidey-hole.

The form that met her was beyond unexpected.

“Weiss!” yelled the gorgeous siren, Chrysanthemum, her back turned to the heiress.

Her arms and legs went suddenly numb, spilling her onto the dirty concrete with a muted thud. As her chin touched the covered earth, a faraway pain coursing through her skull, Weiss’ eyes were glued to the woman.

Her dress was torn off, midway down the thigh, exposing her pale legs to the scant moonlight that now drifted into the byway. Her hair was disheveled but, somehow, unnaturally so, laying at a noticeably odd angle. As Weiss stared in complete shock, her embarrassment replaced with twisted curiosity, a tuft of something dark seemed to poke out just above the siren’s left ear.

The woman turned, perhaps thinking to further explore the alley in search of the heiress, when a girlish yelp suddenly escaped her lips. Chrysanthemum stumbled back a few steps before falling to the ground as well, landing squarely on her rump. Yet, as this happened, the only thing Weiss noticed was the woman’s missing mask.

Silver eyes, reflecting borrowed moonlight like finely polished jewelry, stared in shock at the heiress, their gaze returned in like manner by those icy-blue orbs.

 

α

 

“You…” Weiss whispered dully.

Ruby made no reply, her face a mix of shock, relief and, somehow, shame. The long, fake hair atop her head had tilted further during her fall, exposing a large portion of her mostly-black locks. Now that Weiss could clearly see, in the exposing light of the full moon above, the woman was an utter mess.

The two sat there in stunned silence for a time, each as unsure as the other about how to proceed. The heiress’ frantic mind had calmed significantly under this revelation, though the how and why was entirely lost on her. What now consumed her thoughts, aside from the horror that she had been fawning over this person in particular, was why the woman would give chase.

“Here…” Ruby muttered weakly, holding something out to the heiress.

Weiss snapped from her ruminations, her eyes drawn to the intricately carved masked that had only recently been affixed to her partner’s face. Its surface was flawless, entirely untouched by whatever the pursuit had visited upon the rest of Ruby. The glow of the dust, inlaid expertly in the deep carvings upon its surface, lit the heiress’ perplexed face.

“Why?” she croaked in reply, lifting her icy gaze back to the woman.

“You’ll probably get in a lot of trouble if someone spots you, so take mine.” Ruby said, with a tad more vigor as she pushed the mask closer, “I’ll look for yours later and don’t worry, I can borrow one from another dancer.”

Weiss had no words, nothing from her vast mental lexicon, with which to respond at first. Her dumbfoundedness was all but absolute.

“I was kinda flattered that someone like you, so sophisticated and fancy, would keep coming to see me dance…” Ruby mumbled, fidgeting with her knees, as she continued to offer the mask, “I don’t know why you did, or why you kept coming back, but it was sorta… comforting, even if you didn’t know it was me. It made me feel like I wasn’t totally screwing up…”

As the woman rambled on in her shy gratitude, the heiress had entirely stopped paying her any mind. Her focus was once more, unsurprisingly, on the apparent fact that she had been known for some time. Once again her heart began to race, her stomach flipping and turning knots, as the implications flooded her mind.

“How long…” Weiss whispered, almost imperceptibly.

“Huh?”

“How long?!”

The heiress stood violently on her shaky, exhausted legs, ripping the offered guise from Ruby’s fragile grasp. She cocked her hand up, mask tightly held, as though she were going to strike the woman. At the apex of her swing, however, Weiss’ entire form went numb once more, her emotions a wild torrent within her. She fell upon her knees, listing rearward and sitting gracelessly on her heels.

“I kinda figured it out after the first week…” Ruby mumbled her response, guessing the heiress’ meaning, “You have a certain style to your step, something of a dead giveaway to anyone paying close enough attention.”

The woman paused, watching the heiress as she sat in odd silence.

“With the way you stared holes through me, I couldn’t help but notice…”

Weiss’ icy gaze glazed over as she relinquished whatever hope she’d retained of pulling out of this mess, which was little enough in the first place. She stood on her quivering legs once more, the pain of their overexertion coursing through her, and slipped the mask over her still-bleeding face.

Without a glance, without a word, she pulled up her hood and sauntered away, leaving Ruby to stare in worry as she went.


	3. Pinky Promise

Chapter 3

Pinky Promise

 

Љ

 

Tears stained snowy white cheeks that lay hard on a pillow, stained with the selfsame salty fluid that seemed to refuse to abate. Hair the solid white of an eternal blizzard lay sprawled in all directions across the pillow and bedding beneath. Under a posh cover, made of fine silks imported from Vacuo, a very distraught woman’s chest rose and fell with hitched breaths that bespoke a torrent of furious wailing ready to let loose at any moment.

The sun was not yet up, though the star’s bright radial tethers were lighting the sky a bright violet with its first peeking tendrils. It wouldn’t have mattered, however, were it the middle of the day as the blinds in the private dorm-room were drawn tightly shut. The lone source of light, buried off in a far corner under a pile of books and clothes, was a dust-powered alarm clock that continually blinked its display of the current time.

A faint chime rang from the buried little device, rousing eyes that were normally the cool blue of ice, now bloodshot and tear-strained, with a distinct look of ire and disdain. The woman’s barely-pink lips curled tightly upward in a snarl as the sound pierced the pile she’d buried the clock under.

“Damn you…” she muttered, throwing the cover from her body and standing angrily from her warm bed.

Dreams had haunted her all through the night, refusing to allow her even a moment’s rest for her trouble. Only four days had now passed since the incident, yet still the images of its possible outcomes burned in her head like a raging inferno. Almost as if to combat this blaze, her tears had fallen nearly nonstop since that evening.

The torrent was made only worse by the look of those silver eyes that had regarded her that night. That gaze, from the one that swooped in to try and rescue her, had held such earnest and pleading sympathy behind it. It fully and truly pissed her off.

“Shut up!” the woman, one fully and completely infuriated, and quite possibly well on the way to going mad, Weiss Schnee, yelled.

Her furious shout was accompanied shortly after by the thudding rustle of books and clothes bursting from a neat-ish pile, tumbling all over each other and onto the thinly-carpeted floor, as she ripped the offending object from the nest she’d made to hide it. She then spun around on the ball of her foot and heaved the poor little device over her shoulder, sending it hard into the wall only a few feet from her bed’s headrest.

It burst wonderfully into countless tiny pieces, scattering all across her room, as the heiress breathed raggedly in the afterglow of her wroth outburst.

As the myriad of tiny pieces fell, some still linked together enough to work, one of which being the screen that continued to attest that the time was o-six-hundred hours, Weiss’ wild eyes settled onto another flickering source of light in her otherwise dark room. It sat on the nightstand beside her bed, flashing mutedly with its bright-orange flicker, not even a foot from where the clock had just exploded. She knew what it was, knew very well despite the early hour of this predictably awful Wednesday morning.

It was her muster-instructor, calling once again at the precise moment that homeroom was supposed to commence. The instructor, who might have seemed only worried and intent on checking up on her delinquent student, had another reason for the wellness call. Another reason, that is, with which Weiss was all too familiar to simply play along, especially now that her entire air of professionalism and primness had been so thoroughly sundered.

Winter Schnee, the heiress’ muster-instructor and older sister both, was calling to see why, precisely, the heiress apparent of the Schnee Dust Company was tardy for muster for a third day in a row. Furthermore, she was also calling, for a third day in a row at precisely o-six-hundred hours, to see exactly why the heiress apparent to Remnant’s most prestigious company had been caught cavorting in a nightclub. This, along with the fact that she had been spotted after her disguise, which was a mask of all things, was torn from her, bore heavy consideration and questioning, the approach to which could not be made in public or allowed to be seen or heard by the masses.

Yes, the impeccable and ever prudent Winter Schnee was calling to see why her former-little sister had been found in a _strip club_ , heavens forfend, and now refused to answer for her detestable actions.

The scroll kept ringing, silently since the heiress had muted it the moment she staggered back into her room ninety-six hours earlier, as these maddening diatribes warred furiously inside Weiss’ fevered mind. It kept on blinking and blinking as it silently told her that someone, and a very important someone at that, was waiting anxiously on the other end to give her a righteously deserved chiding.

Weiss wanted little more than to simply crawl into her bed, hiding herself tightly under the covers, and go back to sleep. She wanted neither food nor water, nor even to run to the restroom and alleviate herself, so much as she simply wished to try once more for some slumber. She wanted only to curl up and beg her mind for some black rest, knowing full well it would only give her nightmares for her trouble.

So, Weiss did. She crawled into the bed, the soft and luxurious bed gifted to the Schnee Dust Company’s heiress apparent, and hid herself under the posh covers, the lavish bedspread made of fine Vacuo silks. She sobbed and hiccupped with the incessant tears for some hours as she desperately bid herself to forget and fall into slumber.

She tried, yet sleep refused her entry into its hallowed halls.

 

α

 

The hallway was so much longer than she’d expected, its finely appointed majesty seeming to stretch on forever, the woman very nearly lost herself in admiration as she stepped slowly down the lavish corridor. The walls were papered, of all things in this day and age, with a well-designed pattern that looked almost as though it were an artistic representation of the Fibonacci Sequence. The floral patterns, embossed in gold over a backdrop of ivory, grew and shrank in mesmerizing sequence with each other, spinning and twirling captivatingly as she passed them by.

Her boots, the sort she only donned when not attending classes, made a muffled click on the thinly applied carpet. It was the distinct click that told one the carpet was only there so the eyesore most knew as concrete would not have to be directly seen.

A pile of books and papers, considerably large to one that has never attended such a prestigious place of learning as this, bounced and shifted with each distracted step. The top book, which threatened more than a few times to spill from the pile, proclaimed itself to be the definitive authority on the introduction to psychology. As the woman lolled along, her steps becoming ever slower and more contemplative, the book shifted lazily to her left and teetered fantastically. With but a few more steps, it was sure to fall.

She took two more lazy paces and it did, indeed, let go of its perch atop the pile.

With a surprised yelp and the swooshing sound of paper scattering through the air, the book toppled its mountain over with it as the entire gaggle fell to the thinly-carpeted floor. It landed on its face and made a rather comic thud.

“Shoot!” the woman yelled in her high pitch, dropping to a crouch immediately as she desperately restacked the pile.

She grabbed page after page from the air, still falling gracefully from the sudden commotion, and piled them in an even more disheveled mess. She went for the books next, laying the stack of pages atop the first before piling the other three on top of it. Her silver eyes were nearly ready to burst with tears in her frustration.

“I could _really_ use some coffee…” she muttered under her breath, inching her fingers under the pile of learning material and hoisting it up once more.

She brought the pile back to where it had formerly rested, leaning against her bosom and stomach, and began down the hallway once more. The topmost book, now one which declared itself the definitive authority on business economics, third revised edition, shifted once as though it would start the whole process over again. The woman, silver eyes blazing with sudden determination, moved like a blur of quicksilver to stop its fall. She shifted her bodyweight and leaned hard, letting the book slide in the opposite direction, before correcting her stance.

Another student at the other end of the hall, behind the clumsy woman with her pile of books and papers, could make out little more than a red blur as she moved. He decided it was time to quit the stimulants that helped him stay awake in class after studying all night as she walked on, entirely unaware that she had shaken someone’s idea of how the world works.

Winding her way through the lavishly decorated hall, which rested in the building reserved for distinguished attendees of the university, the woman eventually found the placard she had been searching for.

Room 77; private accommodations, do not disturb.

She read it three then four times, wanting to be doubly sure that she was not about to disturb the wrong distinguished personage from whatever it was such people did at this late hour. Before knocking on the door, which was made of some brilliantly painted metal that resembled fine black oak, she checked the little wristwatch she always wore.

Shifting the books expertly, leaning them against her left shoulder, she lifted her right hand and tilted the wrist toward her gaze. A little face showing the image of a grinning Cheshire, something she’d cherished since her beloved older sister had given it to her, held the blinking display of eighteen-hundred hours in its maw.

She moved the books back into place before taking a deep breath and making her move. With utter innocence of intent, and no small lack of knowledge on proper manners, she reared her left foot back and slammed the booted appendage into the bottom of the metal door. The impact was soft, as much so as a steel-toed combat boot can be, but rang loudly enough to be heard down the hall.

There was a muffled thud and something that sounded distinctly like cursing from behind the door.

 

Ђ

 

Weiss tossed and turned as sweat beaded all along her pallid skin. Her cover, that posh throw made of fine silks from the west, had been kicked off hours ago in her restless tumbling. Now she lay exposed in her still dark room, a thin nightgown of satin clinging tightly to her sweaty form. Despite the cool interior of her air-conditioned private quarters, the rollicking haunts within her head beleaguered her body to ever elevated temperatures.

In her mind she sat in that dark alley, huddled under her desperate hidey-hole made up of forgotten pallets. A fierce storm had broken out and drenched everything her around in a torrential rain. From the wall at the far end of the alley, a tidal wave of the blackest ichor coalesced and tore down the bricked passage.

She heard the watery warble trouncing toward her and, entirely unable to stop herself, crawled from her hiding place to see it. The tsunami of ichor took her immediately, washing the heiress from the relatively inconspicuous dark of the alley into the open street that simply teemed with people. It spilled her into the road, binding her to the ground as it slammed upon her relentlessly, and seemed to sap every ounce of strength that had formerly filled her muscles.

She coughed and choked as it seemed unwilling to end, finally being given reprieve in the worst way possible.

The ichor fled into the concrete beneath her, as though the ground had opened up to swallow it all, and revealed the crowd that gathered around her. Their forms were mostly an indistinguishable blur of shade and smoke, with viciously curved grins full of fangs, as the group crowded around the struggling heiress.

Then came flashes, loud and bright and clacking incessantly, as cameras too entered the fray. Murmurs of mad and incomprehensible nonsense flooded her ears not long after the shutter-clacks. Some muttered in awe and dismay, others sputtering in a clatter of excitement and elation. She opened her eyes weakly to regard the crowd, seeing only a spinning blur of black and white.

As she stared helplessly into the sickening whirl, it suddenly stopped. It was like a pinwheel had been abruptly slammed into a hard surface, violently halting its delicate rhythm. Weiss’ head began to pound and scream with nausea at almost the exact same moment. It flooded in like the wave of ooze that had carried her into the street and displayed her before the crowd of gawkers, robbing what little remained of her miniscule will to resist.

Just as the feeling was becoming too much, making the woman feel as though she would simply die of the overload to her senses, the crowd parted and a figure she could make out stepped from between the mass.

She was wrapped tightly in a mesmerizing dress that was missing nearly all of its lower half, ripped off from mid-thigh down. It was the same endless black as the crowd around the woman, its monotone interrupted by snowy-white skin peeking teasingly through. Eyes of a hauntingly silver hue, the sort that only finely polished silver possessed, regarded her with unbridled pity and woe. They almost seemed to ask her why; why she’d done this and why she’d ran.

She stared at the figure hard, trying to recognize who it was and why it felt so familiar to her. As she did, the figure stepped closer. This sent a jolt of revulsion and terror through the heiress, making her feel as though she had to get away from the figure at any cost. She realized, as she struggled to try and flee the approaching figure, that this would not be possible.

The figure took a knee beside her and leaned close as if it would speak when a sudden bang stole Weiss from her fetid slumber.

Icy-blue eyes streaked with shoots of red popped open almost audibly as the sound reverberated loudly through the dark room. At the same time, the woman’s body instinctively flexed as she did something similar to the motions of a forward flip. Having been laying limp on her bed only moments earlier, this motion succeeded only in tipping her front half up and sending her tilted form into a sideways tumble.

Weiss hit the ground hard, cursing almost the moment she touched the cool floor. A fresh shoot of pain from her bruised jaw, still healing from that night in the alley, helped bring her fully from the light sheet of slumber that had gripped her.

She pulled her hands beneath herself and shifted her feet, which still lay on the bed, to pull herself fully onto the floor. From there, she lifted herself in the manner of a half-push-up, looking around to see what might have caused the alarmingly loud noise. It would never in a million years occur to her that such a violent noise might be someone’s way of knocking on a door.

“Weiss?” called a familiar voice from her door.

The heiress blinked rapidly a few times. She was still in the throes of sleep that left one momentarily stupefied after an abrupt awakening. It was so very familiar; she knew it had to be someone she associated with on a daily basis. Yet, try as she might, she simply couldn’t place it.

“Hey… are you ok?” it called again, clearly a woman’s voice.

Weiss lifted herself fully from the floor and immediately set to cross the floor, suddenly realizing who it was. She all but punched the button on the right of the door, her open palm nearly crushing the manual release that opened the door without a vocal command. It slid upward, opening to reveal a sight that made Weiss’ stomach feel as though it were going to drop out of her.

Her face only barely crested the small mountain of books and papers clutched desperately in her hands, sporting a pitiable grin that said she was ready to vanish completely of embarrassment. Her black hair spilled in a feathered mess along her cheeks, reaching down to touch small shoulders that shook lightly with the strain of the stack’s weight. The red tints at the end of her messy locks, which looked too well blended to be anything but natural, as odd as that may be, shimmered healthily in the soft light from the wall sconces.

“These books are _really_ heavy…” she half-sighed, half-squeaked. The teary glimmer of her silver eyes said this statement was nothing if not true.

Weiss had half a mind to simply close the door and pretend this hadn’t happened, returning to her bed to simply continue her mad pursuit of sleep that would not come. It was the memory of what this woman had done, still vibrantly alive and well in her mind’s eye, that bade the heiress to do otherwise. With a reluctant sigh, she stepped to the side and turned her gaze from the woman holding the little mountain of learning materials.

“Get in before I change my mind…” she nearly growled.

 

Ђ

 

Even in the revealing light of the powerful fluorescents, which loudly showcased every overturned piece of furniture and every carelessly strewn book, the room was like nothing Ruby had ever had the pleasure of being in. Her silver gaze danced all around, taking in every posh appointment of the heiress’ private room. From the elegant desk in the far corner, shaped like something belonged in one of Atlas’ mighty airships rather than any sort of school, to the unmade bed, which still looked every bit as luxurious as it surely was, perhaps only ten feet from the plush chair she sat in. Even the coffee table in front of her, which now sported many scratches across its veneered surface, looked as though a decently light restoration would see that it easily fetched ten or twenty-thousand Lien.

It was undeniably the room of someone on equal ground with a princess or diplomat, regardless of the messy and disheveled shape it stood in at the present moment. Ruby’s heart sank just a tad as she pondered what must have brought about such a violent disturbance in the tenant to so thoroughly wreck the place. She knew well what it was and felt red heat creep into her face as she considered her own fault in the matter, no matter how miniscule.

Her eyes listed from their present station, gazing deeply into a picture frame on the nightstand beside the bed. They drifted to the source of a droning noise that sounded remarkably similar to bacon frying in just a little too much heat. It came from a door that the heiress had disappeared into some fifteen minutes earlier, stating that she needed to wake herself up better before being bothered.

“I hope she’s not too mad…” Ruby muttered to herself dejectedly.

She watched the curtain of steam that drifted lazily from under the solid black door, filling the top of the room as though a sauna lay on the other side. It made her homesick for some reason.

The sound came to a sudden, albeit unnoticed, halt as she watched that mesmerizing curtain of vapor. Ruby was lost entirely in thought as a shuffling came from behind the door, pulled from her errant ponderings only when the black surface rose quickly into the frame. What came next saw to it that her face turned the same color as her namesake-gem.

Weiss walked out brazenly from her bathroom, which was roughly the size of the tiny apartment her present guest rented while attending the university, with nary a stich of clothing on her save for the lavender towel wrapped around her hair.

The light caught every droplet of water that still clung to the heiress, making her pale complexion look as though it were made of glimmering jewels rather than flesh. Her every curve was ridiculously accented and displayed by the shading from the fluorescent glow, captivatingly showcasing her ample gifts to her suddenly red-faced guest.

She crossed the twenty or so feet to her bed and carelessly plopped her bare rump onto it, breasts jiggling lightly with the abrupt motion. Her icy-blues looked every bit of disinterested and aloof, as though lost in some mire of philosophical contemplation, as she seemed to regard the sterile-white of the carpeted floor. Her posture upon sitting was slouched, as though she had never once been scolded by any number of private tutors to remember that proper posture was tantamount to proper manners.

A single drop of water found its way from under the loosely wrapped towel on her head, trailing down the bridge of her nose before dropping unnoticed from the tip.

“Um…” was all Ruby could manage, so thorough was her embarrassment and astonishment at the heiress’ seeming lack of decorum.

Weiss turned a look of bemused shock to the woman, whose hair now blended in with her face on the tips where it turned to red. She looked as though a ghost had suddenly popped in to inform her that clothes might be warranted as a guest now joined her in the room. To Ruby, however, she looked very similar to a deer staring down a fast-approaching beowolf, entirely powerless to react in its total surprise.

“Oh, sorry…” Weiss responded listlessly, “I suppose I should put something on, eh?”

The question seemed pointed more to herself than her bewildered guest, though Ruby was too busy observing the details of the floor to notice.

Weiss stood with all the haste of a tortoise and crossed to the armoire that housed her assortment of fineries. She pulled the doors open and disinterestedly shuffled through the hanging dresses and outfits, finally settling on an unremarkable robe of some abhorrently soft material. She tossed it over her shoulders, slipping her arms slowly into the sleeves, before closing the armoire. She forgot, or perhaps didn’t care enough, to cinch it closed with the sash that was sewn to it.

Ruby’s silver eyes were still firmly affixed to the floor as Weiss resumed her seat, plopping just as carelessly back onto her bed with the robe barely covering the important spots.

“Why did you come here?” the heiress asked slowly, enunciating each word clearly and purposefully.

“Well, I came to give you your handouts.” Ruby responded nervously, still eyeing the carpet beneath her boots.

“They’re on my desk where I said to leave them, right?” Weiss asked emotionlessly.

“Yeah…”

“So you have no more reason to be here.” As the heiress said this, her gaze seemed to wax with a sense of something between regret and relief, “Why don’t you go ahead and leave?”

Ruby lifted her gaze, resting her silvers on the heiress’ hunched and morose form. The robe thankfully hung just right to as to cover the pert flesh that bulged faintly on her chest, though the side of the right one still poked out enough to be seen. She ignored this as she looked Weiss over, assessing whether she heard what she thought she did in the woman’s tone.

It was just as she thought.

“No one knows, Weiss.” She stated flatly, trying as much as she could to sound confident and sure.

The gambit paid off perfectly. Weiss immediately tensed up and lifted herself slowly, ponderously, to a straighter posture. Her head turned slowly to look at Ruby, icy-blues locking gaze with polished-silvers. A shoot of empathy and duress bolted down Ruby’s spine as they stared eye-to-eye.

“Shut up…” Weiss muttered weakly in response.

“No one knows.” Ruby repeated, this time filled with the confidence she previously had to fake.

“I said shut up, damn you!” Weiss suddenly shouted, leaping to her feet as though she might charge.

The robe fluttered open, flashing everything there was to see at the raven-haired woman. Ruby’s look of calm and composure, donned while Weiss was somewhere between the mental gates of hell and rock-bottom depression, didn’t flee in embarrassment. She merely kept her gaze locked with the heiress’, trying her best to get across the certainty of her statement.

“I didn’t tell and no one was sober enough to recognize you, Weiss.” She continued, watching carefully for any sign of impending violence, “The only ones that might have recognized you were nowhere near. I’m pretty sure the announcer was the only person besides myself that hadn’t been drinking.”

“You’re lying…” the heiress muttered weakly.

“I’m not.”

“You couldn’t know for sure…”

“I do.”

Ruby gave her every response with a stoic face that bespoke absolute certainty, never breaking her stare. She couldn’t quite figure out why she’d entered this contest of wills, yet she had no intention now of letting it go and giving up. Whether her partner liked it or not, she would convince her one way or another.

“Is this what’s kept you cooped up since Saturday?” Ruby asked with pointed calm and empathy.

“What the hell would you know…” Weiss replied with venom.

“I don’t, but I’m worried about you Weiss.”

It was true; she _was_ worried. Not in the sense of some deep friendship or some sort of infatuation, but in the sense of true human caring for an ailing fellow. She was earnestly concerned for her partner, who was so clearly shaken that she’d all but abandoned what seemed to be an instinctual level of manners and propriety.

“You’re not acting like yourself; you need to let this go, whatever it is, and pull yourself together.” Ruby pleaded, “You said that your grades were really important, right?”

“Shut up…”

“You said that you had to be concerned about me, and I know you don’t really like me much, because graduating was so important, right?”

“ _Shut up_ …”

“I’ll help you if you’ll open up, Weiss…” Ruby entreated, meaning every bit of it.

“ _Get Out!_ ” Weiss screamed shrilly and suddenly, eliciting a jump from her worried guest.

Ruby shrunk into the chair at first, worried the woman might finally charge her. When it looked as though there would be no bum rush, no wild lunge of aggression, Ruby stood slowly from the chair and looked at her partner.

The woman’s gait was something between feral and drunk, hunched and loose like she had never once been shown how a proper lady stands. The look of fear and hate in her icy-blue eyes told the raven-headed woman it was time to leave well enough alone. It told her the getting was good to be gotten, and she had better do it while she could yet salvage the situation at a later juncture.

It seemed her chosen major was a decent choice after all, though her first patient, unwitting and clearly unwilling, would likely be the toughest case of her future career.

Ruby began to walk for the door, intent to leave as the heiress had so vehemently bid her, when a thought occurred to her. She stopped and turned slowly around, standing her ground as she addressed the wild-looking woman.

“I’m getting off work a little earlier tonight, Weiss.” She said calmly, though she shook somewhat on the inside, “Please, get some rest and come see me around one. You can come disguised, I know you need to, but please don’t ignore me. I promise you it’ll be worth it…”

With that, the woman turned and left the room. Weiss said not a word as she did, instead dropping to her knees and sobbing silently the moment the door slid shut.

 

Ͼ

 

The bob of the train was far and away from Weiss’ mind as she silently occupied her seat. Each bump and tilt of the car in which she sat, lolled this way and that by the tracks that were as close to level as possible, humanly or otherwise, failed to stir the heiress from her distracted mental wanderings. Once more, for perhaps the fifth time since she’d left her private dorm-room, her mind positively swam with errant ruminations regarding her present ordeal.

She could see her father’s face clearly, the look of disappointment and total unfamiliarity in his eyes, as he glared at her from across a conference-room table. She could hear the professional detachment in his voice as he explained, with painfully clear enunciation so the attending committee members could hear well, that, while he had no problem with attraction between like genders, though it was not his preference, such a scandal as this could not be overlooked. She could hear every last word, as clearly as if he sat beside her this very moment delivering his well thought out speech, expounding upon the myriad reasons a Schnee simply _could not_ be seen or thought of attending such a disreputable place as a gentleman’s club.

The sheer gall of it…

“Oasis District. All disembarking passengers, please have your tickets ready to present for verification. This message repeats.” Barked the conductor, automated though it was, over the train’s interior loudspeaker. It took extra care to repeat itself thrice more, just to be sure it was heard and understood by the whole of its ten passengers at this godforsaken hour.

Weiss stood up all but lifelessly and departed much like a ghost. She wisped by the automated teller on her chosen door, flashing the ticket with little thought spared for whether or not the machine actually managed to scan it. The lack of an alarm ringing behind her told her it did, though she cared little and less over that as well.

She left the train station and waltzed into the night as though she fair owned it, paying little heed to the scant traffic that still occupied the roads she had to cross here and there. At this point, with the maddening situation overtaking her, the consequences of not looking both ways afore crossing the street mattered little.

She was bound for where it had begun, her descent into madness and apathy that is, and cared little if another random stroke of fate happened to intervene and whisk her away from it all.

How simply droll…

 

α

 

Chrysanthemum sat at her vanity mirror, dabbing away at the last bits of makeup that still clung to her already nigh-perfect skin. The mask she’d borrowed from her coworker, which looked oddly like a phoenix with its fanciful decoration of flaming feathers, lay silent and still beside her. Its hollow eye-sockets looked up at the ceiling, almost as if pleading for a drop a water for a parched throat. The feel it gave off creeped the dancer out, far more than it should’ve, though not so much as when she’d been wearing it.

She placed the spongey pad, which she used to remove her cosmetics every night after her gamboling, upon a plate carved of Grimm ivory. It rested neatly in its little basin as she averted her gaze from the mirror, turning it up and to the right to spy a clock nestled on the far wall. The large hand pointed due-left while the small one lay just behind the first numeral, telling her the time was getting close.

She turned her gaze back, grasping and twisting a little brass handle just below her mirror. A faucet directly beneath whooshed to life as warm, clear water poured in a gentle stream. She placed her hands together and collected as much as she could, splashing it along her skin to finish the process of removal.

After drying with a nearby hand towel, she stood to leave. It was once she’d reached the door that she remembered the last bit of her after-work ritual.

The dancer turned around and walked back to her spot, her private place of preparation, and reached her hands to grasp the sides of her head. With a gentle tug, much like a soldier removing his helmet, she lifted the incredibly realistic head of false hair from her true locks, allowing the raven-black tresses to fall freely around her face. She placed the wig on its resting place, an eerie plaster head that sat lonely on the desk beneath the mirror, and turned to leave.

This time she did, heading for the backdoor reserved only for dancers and management. She passed through the long hallway that led to it, walking briskly past the imposing bouncers and under the odd flickering lamps that hung above. She was somewhat off put by the burly individuals, most of which looked like dropouts from one of Remnant’s many combat schools, but found herself grateful for their presence all the same.

It somehow reminded her, if only a little, of the one that used to protect her when she was little.

She opened up the rear door, a large slat of iron that sat on nearly greaseless hinges and only unlocked if you wore your ID bracelet. It squeaked and squalled as though it wished to wake the dead, protesting every last millimeter it was forced to move.

She then stepped into the back-alley that led to the street, 43rd to be precise, and headed for the well-lit sidewalk she could see even now. Her combat boots, the ones she wouldn’t dare wear while attending classes, left a dull click in her wake with every step. It echoed pleasantly as she proceeded to where she imagined the heiress would show up, if she did indeed show up at all.

When she arrived at her chosen waiting place, underneath a little palm tree that hung gaudily over the street, the woman lifted her hands and placed them behind her head. She interlaced her fingers and leaned against the out-of-place tree, whistling a tune quietly to herself as she waited. It also reminded her of someone she was now separated from, though this person she now recalled was separated by the veil between here and the beyond rather than mere miles.

All the same, she whistled that comforting and slightly depressing tune while she awaited the heiress, watching the street much like a hawk.

 

Ђ

 

“Come on; I know a better place to talk than this.”

That is what she had said, the very moment the heiress approached the silver-eyed woman leaning against the tree. No hellos, no good evenings, no glad-to-see-you; just a short, succinct instruction to follow before walking off as though she knew the heiress would be right behind. The woman certainly had no lack of confidence this night, which seemed unusual considering her typical disposition. Enthralled as she was by this, as well as the intriguing getup she wore this eve, Weiss decided to follow as she was bid.

Yet, follow or not, the attitude and circumstances certainly pissed her off.

They proceeded down the street some ways before turning off onto another, heading from 43rd onto 58th and proceeding further. Their stroll was mostly silent and entirely uneventful, save for the odd vehicle that would slow down significantly as it passed by. The drivers of these vehicles, most of which were, unsurprisingly, men, made no effort to hide their shameless ogling of the two attractive young women.

Though Weiss sported the mask Ruby had loaned her, it still curdled her blood each time one would pass. She felt certain her identity was blown already and that one would pass by, turn off onto a hidden street and stop to make a call. It wouldn’t be long after that that her father, or more likely some of his goons, would show up to whisk the errant-heiress apparent off for that stern lecture that undoubtedly awaited.

“I told you: no one knows.” Ruby said suddenly, commandingly and yet sweetly, as they continued along.

Weiss’ face lit up a bright red almost instantly as her flesh began to feel hot enough to light her mask ablaze. She had to bite her tongue, quite literally, to stifle the sudden outburst that begged release.

“Is it our teacher?” Ruby continued, this time with a question.

The heiress thought for a moment, trying to piece the meaning together.

“Is the resemblance that strong?” she answered with her own question.

“She looks like you, only older and somehow more boring and prudish.”

Ruby punctuated this statement with a barely-stifled snort of laughter, only furthering the blaze of ire growing under the heiress’ façade.

“We _are_ sisters…” Weiss spoke lowly as she tried to keep her seething temper in check, “I suppose it should be no surprise that we look alike.”

“So, is it _her_ then?” Ruby asked again, “Or is it the man in that picture-frame beside your bed?”

Weiss said nothing from there for the rest of their stroll. For another ten, perhaps even fifteen minutes, the heiress spoke not a word to the woman who led the way. She was done, done with it all, and only intended to follow long enough to hear what she had to say before writing it all off. She began to ponder where she should purchase a ticket to once the conversation was done.

Vacuo was supposed to be nice this time of year, or so she’d heard.

They eventually turned off the street, passing under a large iron gate that led them onto a narrower cemented path. It winded its way through a large, grassy stretch of land, peeling off into the night like a haunting sliver of grey in almost pitch blackness.

She recognized it at once as the Mt. Olympus Park; a place her father had personally commissioned only ten years earlier. As they proceeded through the darkened path, winding this way and that over the grassy field, she knew full well what the looming structure in the distance was. Silhouetted like a man atop a large platform, an effigy of her grandfather stood proudly with one hand reaching toward the heavens as he held a ledger in the other.

Suddenly, and almost unnoticed by Weiss, Ruby turned hard to the right and left the cement path altogether. The heiress had to speed up her pace a little to make up the distance put between them by her late notice. She caught up just as Ruby entered a thick copse of trees, dogwoods that would bloom magnificently in the next Spring mixed with young firs, finding herself gradually becoming frustrated with the sojourn.

“Is there a point to all this?” she asked loudly, breathing a tad harder from her short jog.

The woman didn’t answer, instead merely proceeding on into the little grove. Once more, Weiss heavily considered abandoning the endeavor and making her way back to the station. She chewed over the idea of a midnight egress to some far-off land, where she could abandon and forget the whole of her present conundrum.

As quickly as these thoughts came, however, so too did they quickly dissipate. Weiss simply followed after the woman, deciding she’d not come this far to give up entirely before having satiation for her waxing curiosity. So, on she went, delving deeper into the cluster of dogwoods and firs as Ruby led the way.

They went for only a few minutes longer before Ruby stopped entirely. Weiss very nearly bumped into her as she tried to do the same, succeeding just before her nose stabbed the back of the woman’s head.

“This should be good.” She said flatly, spinning around to look the heiress in the eye.

Her silver orbs gleamed despite the near total lack of light, something the heiress found oddly intriguing. Their gazes were locked for only a moment before Ruby broke the silence and laid her intent bare.

“Father or sister.” She stated, as though Weiss should know full well what she meant.

“What are you on about?!” the heiress replied exasperatedly.

“Which one is it that’s worrying you so badly?” Ruby asked again, this time clarifying herself.

Weiss had no intent to answer, not at first, as she found herself stepping slowly backward. When the hard surface of one of the many dogwoods found her back, the woman buckled her knees and slid to the ground. She took a slightly uncomfortable seating, her feet splayed out to either side while her knees lay together in front of her. She looked up at her accuser, or perhaps addressor were one to remain objective, for a time.

The scene was oddly beautiful and yet queerly stirring; a woman to whom the entire world had fair been handed on a silver platter, starring dejectedly up at a woman to whom very little in the way of advantage had ever been visited. Their gaze was locked under the teeny bit of new-moonlight that found them, hidden in the grove of dogwoods at nigh unto two in the wee hours. Silence punctuated their stand-off, their tete-a-tete held in unspoken palaver, as icy-blues gazed unmoving into polished-silvers.

“Why do you even care?” Weiss asked at last, growing fully tired of the entire ordeal.

Ruby’s gaze faltered not as she observed the woman for a moment more, watching for any indicator that might tell her what the heiress either would not or could not.

“It’s just how I am.” She began at last, “I can’t just watch someone suffer, whatever the reason, so I have to try and help. Even if I can’t, even if it’s none of my business, and even if they don’t want me to; I have to at least try. Especially for a partner that depends on my performance as much as their own.”

These words seemed pretty and pleasant to the heiress, exceedingly so were they true. As she regarded the figure in the dim slats of moonlight, cast as though a trillion little needles of dim light through the canopy of dogwood and fir, Weiss saw no indication to think it anything _but_ true.

This was quite a surprise to her. After all, everyone lies.

“So, this is to help your own ego… This is so you can pat your own back for being a good person?” Weiss prodded, curious to see how the woman would answer.

Ruby only smiled in response, with a look painted over her face that said she knew each and every card held tightly and hidden in the heiress’ hand.

“You don’t like me, and I’m a little scared of you to be honest.” She replied, “I’m still going to help if I can, though. You’ll have to tell me which it is, first, though.”

Weiss regarded her with quiet reservation from where she sat.

“Father or sister?” Ruby repeated once more.

“It should be obvious, shouldn’t it?” Weiss replied at last, averting her eyes as she allowed herself a moment of lowered defenses, “I’m the face of a giant, affluent company. One that holds influence across all of Remnant, second only to Atlas if any at all. I’m the heiress apparent to that monolithic company and I just got caught in this seedy part of the city, trouncing around in disguise to watch naked women dance on a stage…”

She trailed off with that as tears stung at her icy-blues once again. Her breathing hitched a few times before the first hot stream spilled out from the right, a ticklish trickle running along her pale cheek. She could already feel the regret and fury welling up for having exposed herself so. Vacuo, or perhaps even the wilds that teemed with Grimm; anywhere seemed rather better than right here at this very moment.

“Are you _that_ worried about what they think?” Ruby asked plaintively, watching the woman start to fall apart again. She took a few steps closer, closing the distance again before sitting on her heels in front of the mentally-wounded heiress.

“Are you _that_ surprised that I _would_ be?” Weiss replied between expertly hidden hitches of sobbing.

She didn’t see the hand that reached out for her, tinier than a grown woman’s likely should be, nor did she feel it at first when that hand clasped her left shoulder. When the feeling came to her, the grip was surprisingly strong and comforting; it was warm and soft as that small hand wrapped over top of her long-coat.

“No one knows besides me, Weiss.” Ruby reiterated, for the umpteenth time, as Weiss slowly turned her gaze back to her.

The face Weiss saw looking back at her sported a smile that could still a demon’s rage, kind and concerned as it was with that unmistakable hint of honesty beneath the surface.

“Everyone lies…” Weiss muttered weakly.

“Well, I guess I’m no one then.” Ruby replied frankly.

She kept that soft smile up as she spoke, holding the heiress’ shoulder reassuringly all the while. Something stirred in Weiss as this went on, something that she had thought to be dead for a while now. It only twitched, just barely enough to be noticed as it surged weakly through her, but that little movement was enough to be felt and considered.

Weiss’ mind cleared somewhat as the tears abated, the feeling quickly dying as it made its way weakly through her being.

“How can I trust you?” Weiss whispered softly, as if begging to be repudiated, “I don’t even _know_ you…”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Ruby replied succinctly once more, retaining her smile as ever, “And you have everything to lose, so why not take a chance at least?”

Weiss considered the truth the woman posed, mulling and chewing it in her fevered mind that had unknowingly begun to pull itself somewhat back together. She did, indeed, stand to lose it all if word got out, so what harm was there in humoring the loveable oaf before her that seemed so intent on earning a chance. A chance for what, Weiss didn’t know, and didn’t particularly care either, yet still she saw little reason to fight it so fervently when no other options of worth could be found.

She acquiesced, reluctantly, with a markedly heavy sigh as she took hold of the hand on her shoulder. With the gentleness of a harpist, she removed the hand and pushed it back to the woman in front of her. When she opened her icy-blues, which she’d closed tightly while considering the question, what greeted her sight was nothing if not surprising.

Jutting out in front of her, not hardly a foot from her nose, was the woman’s pinky. It stood out from the balled fist of her left hand, proudly asking to be embraced by the heiress’ matching digit.

“I promise, partner, that your secret’s safe with me.” Ruby answered before Weiss had even asked her question, “I know what it’s like to feel alone when you’re doing something, for whatever reason it is you’re doing it, and I swear to you I won’t betray you. If you like watching women dance, clothed or not, that’s your thing and I’m not gonna judge it or rat you out for it.”

The silver-eyed woman pushed the finger just a tad closer, as if proclaiming her honesty, and eyed the heiress with a resolve Weiss had not expected to see in her.

“Pinky-promise.” She said with all the confidence and bravado that her spirit possessed.

Weiss only eyed the woman and her proffered digit, curious much and more why she seemed so intent on making this pact. It wasn’t unwelcome, per se, but it was somewhat unsettling. Everything the heiress knew, everything she believed about humanity, told her that ulterior motive lay behind each and every human gesture. Whether kind and caring or depraved and deviant, all mankind did was for the sole purpose of reaching one’s own ends.

She eyed that extended pinky with distrust, yet found herself unable to sense anything but puerile honesty behind the extended gesture. She surprised herself, much and more, as she found her own left hand rising, pinky extended in like manner, to accept the offered kindness and confidence.

“You don’t know _me_ , either…” Weiss muttered in faint protest as her pinky wrapped around the other woman’s.

Ruby only smiled in response, with the same smile that had decorated her face for the last many minutes, as she gripped her new friend’s pinky even tighter. With a soft motion, she pistoned their interlaced hands up and down in a quick pinky-shake. Her face positively glowed with the elation that her offer had been accepted.

“I _will_ keep you secret, Weiss.” She replied, happily and energetically, as she performed the pseudo-handshake a few times more, “I swear on this pinky-promise; your secret is safe in my care.”

 

Љ

 

Weiss lay in her bed, covered to her chin by the silky throw that lay upon her every night, as she stared at her left hand held high above her head. Her curtains were open this early morning, letting in the scant bit of moonlight that tore its way through the dark outside. The clock beside her bed, a replacement for the predecessor which had unfortunately suffered a high-impact collision with her wall, solidly displayed the time in bright-green numerals. It read o-five-forty-five as a little asterisk flashed repeatedly beside the last digit, warning any onlookers that its blaring tone would soon attempt to rouse its sleeping master.

She ignored the little device, which sat also beside the picture-frame on her nightstand, as she tilted her hand back and forth. The scant rays of moonlight lit her pallid complexion magnificently as her icy-blue eyes keened onto the pinky. It was just as pale as the rest of her hand, yet it seemed to pulse vaguely with a heat she could see no indication of. It felt as though it were telling her, in some odd manner she could not mentally grasp, that it had a new sense of gravity to it.

It felt as though some string lay loosely tied to the tiny digit, flying off through the air to some faraway place as it attached her firmly to something else.

“Pinky-promise, huh?” she muttered tiredly, having had no sleep this night either, though the insomnia this time around had come for a wholly different reason, “How childish…”

Yet, though she firmly believed her observation, the thought of it still prodded a wan smile to life across her barely-pink lips.


	4. Due Diligence

Chapter 4

Due Diligence

 

Љ

 

“Heads up and pencils down, students!” called the professor’s stern voice, her tone like a violinist hitting a particularly poignant note in a symphony; harsh and commanding, yet melodic and enthralling.

All heads within the muster-class, which were presently handling the first testing battery of their MTU career, obeyed their professor without a second thought. Papers shuffled lightly here and there, giving off the telltale sign that some few were less than confident in their chosen answers. The occasional cough could be heard as well, coming from the students that had already fallen to one of the season’s less welcomed gifts.

It was the beginning of winter, for which this particular professor was named, as the biting air permeated the very bones of those attending the school. The season brought with it the MTU’s first real trial for all that wished to pass under the hallowed arch at the school’s rear, going forth into the world as burgeoning lights to carry the torch of the Schnee Dust Company to ever greater heights.

The battery consisted of something very akin to finals at other colleges. One striking difference was that performance on these tests dictated one’s furtherance at the University. Conversely, they promised a swift boot out the door to those that failed.

One particular set of icy eyes, fixated firmly on the large blackboard behind the professor, held absolutely no hint of self-doubt or trepidation. They bespoke only pure and utter calm and collection, the owner of these icy orbs having mostly recovered her former self in these last months. Her air of superiority was back, bringing with it the smooth confidence of the heiress’ former self-assurance in her performance of any tasks meted to her.

The source of this convalescence of mind, handed out unwanted as it first was, sat beside the heiress with her icy stare. This one, however, was in much less of a confident mood.

The silver eyes of the heiress’ newest, and perhaps only, friend raced across her own test paper. They checked and double-checked as quickly as possible, looking like a blur of molten silver as they scanned the pencil-marks. She was sure she’d left something out, even more sure she had answered most everything wrong.

Business Economics was her least favorite subject, not the least reason being that she absolutely could _not_ comprehend the subject-matter.

“All students, pass your papers to the end of your row!” Winter barked again, in that same commandingly melodic tone, “Line Captains, bring the tests to my desk, posthaste!”

Ruby jumped noticeably, stirring Weiss from the errant rumination that had been mulling around her head for most of the last five months. It was, as it had ever been since that night, the dully throbbing heat in her pinky that defied explanation to the heiress’ questioning mind.

As the stack of papers travelling down their own row grew larger, with each test plopped atop it adding a few more millimeters of thickness, it finally came Ruby’s turn to add her own. The stack shuffled in front of Weiss, the heiress adding hers absentmindedly as expected, and was passed to the now shivering raven-headed woman. It sat beside her for a moment, as she scanned her own paper one final time, though she knew full well the chance had passed to correct anything, before Ruby laid her own test on it.

She passed the stack to the student beside her, praying that a miracle might save her from the royal screw-up she assured herself this would become.

“Are you alright?” Weiss questioned tentatively, the care in her voice leaking through more than she’d wanted it to.

“Y- Yeah, I’m f- fine…” Ruby stuttered nervously, hating herself a little for even such a small white lie.

Weiss knew she was lying, yet took it at face value all the same. She returned to her ruminations as the Line Captain took their pile to Winter’s desk, laying it neatly beside the stacks that had been delivered first.

She continued to drift around in her mind as she now began to think on her studies. The coursework had been lighter than she’d expected from the class, being that her sister was the one running it. It was unwelcomed, to say the least, as the heiress interpreted this to be some small show of familial favoritism. It made her icy blood run hotter, though icy might not be the best descriptor considering her recent disposition.

As she thought these thoughts, a weak whimper caught her ear. She turned to her head to the right to see her partner, the ever-amicable and amiable Ruby Rose, with no less than a few thin streams of tears running down her pallid cheeks. The poor woman shook just a tad harder than before, almost as though some titanic war were raging within her lithe form.

Weiss’ heart stirred at that sight, giving the heiress pause at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Weiss Schnee!” Winter called suddenly, now standing behind her lectern.

“Yes, Ma’am!” the heiress replied dutifully, standing immediately from her seat.

“Come see me after classes.”

The command was succinct and carried the same tone Weiss had always known her sister for. It was cool and aloof and fully warranted of the season for which she was named. Yet, there was something under that tone that caught the heiress and once more gave her pause. There was something in the words and the way they were delivered that told her aught was amiss.

There lay a hint of accusatory anger in Winter’s words; something only Weiss picked up on it would seem.

She continued to stand for a few minutes as the meaning behind this seemingly hidden detail mulled around her mind. Winter only watched at first, thinking her sister, and student, had some response, before quickly growing tired of the odd display.

“Care to take your seat so I may recommence teaching, Miss Schnee?” Winter spoke at last. There was a more obvious anger in her words, enough so that even other students could sense it, but she held the bulk of it expertly in check.

Without a word, pulled from her sudden vagrant thoughts with alarming suddenness, Weiss took her seat as bid. Her face felt hot and flushed as she returned to wondering over Winter’s odd disposition this day. It was normal, yes quite so, for her sister to be less than warm and fuzzy. Yet, it was not normal for the older Schnee to seem as though she were hiding something, as the woman was known for speaking her mind.

Weiss turned to her partner, a sudden sickness now creeping into her gut, and leveled her icy-blues upon her. The woman still shivered with something like panic or fear, though now not as much so, yet held her own gaze averted from the heiress. She could still pick up on the odd whimper from the woman as she watched, furthering the nauseated feeling that began creeping into the heiress once again.

Had she only discovered what gripped Ruby’s heart earlier…

 

Љ

 

Weiss’ stiletto dress-shoes clacked loudly as she waltzed down the long hall leading to Winter’s office. It seemed odd to her, upon first consideration, that a professor would keep their quarters so far from where they taught. She would later realize, and duly understand, why it was Winter hid herself away from the rest of the school to do her planning of lessons and grading of tests.

The hallway stretched forever it seemed, a long corridor of marble walls with a rosy tile floor. All along the marble wall, in even increments that seemed inhumanly accurate, there stood bronze sconces that lit the hallway dimly with raw flame. They danced and flickered in the little bit of wind that carried behind the heiress’ quick step, looking like blazing fingers that shook back and forth as though chiding her.

Every now and again, Weiss would pass by one of the many labs and speaking rooms. Their silver and bronze-finished doors would wink coyly at her in the flickering light cast from the sconces, giving the letters that identified each an eerie sort of faux-life. One she passed by caught her interest in passing, enough so that Weiss recalled the oddly titled room until her deathbed.

**‘All-World Conference Room** ’ it read queerly in the sconce-light, sending an odd shiver up Weiss’ spine as she passed it by.

She put the thought from her head as she came at last to Winter’s office door, now a full ten minutes into her walk. Though she’d always anticipated the day she would attend this prestigious university, as well as her graduation that would lead her one step closer to surpassing her father and sister, the sheer enormity of the place continued to fill her with awe each and every day it seemed.

The door stood apart from the rest, at the very end of the hallway that seemed as though it would never end. Sunken into a wrought iron frame, its steel surface was marred and pitted with deep gashes and dents. The thing looked as though it had been used as a shield in some grandiose war, sending another shiver down Weiss’ spine.

She reached her right hand out to knock when an odd sound caught her ear. It was much like the heavy breathing of one who has been running for a long time, perhaps training for a decathlon or some such endeavor. Along with the heavy breathing, she could hear a dull thud repeatedly sounding off. Something like a chain rattling around joined the chorus, and Weiss knew at once what it must be.

The heiress took a deep breath and opened the door without knocking.

She hadn’t even set her left foot on the ground when a whistling whoosh passed her left ear, followed quickly by the high-pitched ringing of steel piercing iron. Her heart stopped for a moment, skipping a few beats before resuming its rhythm in markedly slower progression. Her eyes turned lightning-fast to see what now warbled beside her head, lodged deep in the wrought iron doorframe.

Winter’s saber stood menacingly out beside her, at an angle that suggested it had missed the heiress’ head by no more than a few millimeters. Had she looked to her feet, Weiss’ would’ve noted the long locks of hair on the floor that had formerly rested over her left ear.

“You took your time, Weiss.” Called a clearly infuriated voice, pulling the heiress’ attention away from the deadly implement.

Winter stood in front of a well-used punching bag, her face red and uniform slick with sweat. Her hands were bare, the gloves normally covering them left on her desk across the room, and the knuckles were bright red all over. In some spots they were even beginning to turn purple and bled openly at the very tips.

Weiss flicked her gaze to the punching bag and briefly noted the picture that barely clung to its leather surface. It was of an older man, likely in his late thirties or even mid-forties. His face sported the stubble of one that has much more important matters than grooming on his plate. His eyes were the light brown of molasses, sunken into worried sockets that further attested that he had seen much and more in this life.

“We have a very important matter to discuss, concerning you, sister…” Winter stated coldly as she walked swiftly to her desk. The abused bag continued to swing mutedly on its well-oiled chain as Weiss joined her, letting the door slam harshly shut behind her.

Winter took her seat on a posh bit of furniture behind the oaken desk, which looked more like it belonged in some executive’s suite, while Weiss took the proffered piece in front. The difference was marked and distinctly commentative, showcasing the present difference between the two that the heiress so dearly wished to topple. Winter’s seat was a tall bit of mahogany, painstakingly handmade and adorned with lavish carvings, over which a plush cover of burgundy leather sat. The one offered to Weiss, on the other hand, was little more than a simple conference room chair, made of oak much like the desk, that blatantly cried subordinate status.

As she got comfortable in the less than comfortable seat, Winter’s words began to eat into Weiss. Once again, that nauseated sensation was clawing its way through her because of the tone and, this time, the words themselves. The heiress was finding herself wondering if, concerning a certain someone, she might have made a wrong decision.

“Certain things have come to light, Weiss, and I fear I have to come to you with my concerns.” Winter began, leaving a sensation of dread to well up further in the younger Schnee, “Though it also concerns your partner, Miss Rose, the burden falls to you.”

Weiss stiffened up in her seat as she listened, now worrying openly over what it was. It never failed to irk her how Winter seemed cursed to drag out her statements when in private, leaving one to do little more than worry until she got around to coming out with it.

“Now, what I’m about to lay upon you may seem unfair, Weiss.” Winter continued, “However, please realize my hands are tied. Due to unfortunate… circumstances, there is little I can do for you and, I’m sorry to say, you’ll simply have to handle this yourself.”

Weiss’ throat began to close as a cold sweat broke out all over her. Her icy-blues began to stare through her sister as images of previously imagined scenarios played out once again.

“I’ll cut right to the chase, then.” Winter said morosely, closing her eyes as she leaned her chin on her clasped hands.

Weiss’ heart felt ready to pop as it lumbered along in her tightening chest.

“You’re going to have to help Miss Rose study for make-up tests.”

Winter jumped with an uncharacteristic squeal when a sudden thud broke the near-silence of the room. She had already drawn a small, yet undoubtedly destructive, pistol of some sort from her coat, her own icy eyes darting instinctually around the room. When she finally found the source of the sound, which lay rubbing its head in front of her desk, the older Schnee looked even more ready to use her hidden weapon.

“What the hell was that?!” Winter yelled, letting go of her usual composure.

Weiss lay on the cold floor of her sister’s office, rubbing the back of her head where it had smacked the hard surface bellow. She looked up at the woman, her eyes tearing up with both pain and relief, as her face began to flush red. One leg remained slung over the now toppled chair as she tried to sit up.

It took a moment, as well as some small effort, but Weiss managed to pick herself and her seat up before replying.

“You… surprised me with what you said…” Weiss replied blearily as she returned to her seat.

“Well, what did you think I was going to say?!”

Winter still had not regained herself as her younger sister stared at her, eyes full of a tiny bit of awe along with the teary look of pain. It almost looked like a small smile might crack across her face.

“Nothing.” Weiss replied flatly, striving to kill the smile before it could further infuriate the woman.

“Yes, well…” Winter began, trailing off as she re-holstered the gun and took her seat, “There you have it. You’ll have to help your partner study for a make-up battery in two weeks.”

As Weiss collected herself, trying desperately to calm her still-racing heart, it suddenly struck her how ludicrous this was. She remembered clearly that the handbook stated the first-year’s Winter Battery was a do-or-die, sink-or-swim, finality. One passed and continued, or one failed and hit the road. It was supposed to be nothing more or less, thus she now gave her sister a quizzical look.

“Wait.” Weiss pondered aloud, “Isn’t this supposed to be what culls the unfit from the school?”

Winter met her sister’s gaze, resting her chin on clasped hands once more, with a look of irritation that seemed not entirely directed at the heiress.

“Indeed, it is. Yet, for a few… relevant reasons, there has been an exception made.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair, moving her interlaced hands behind her head in a very uncharacteristically relaxed manner.

“If she fails, it would look bad on me.” Weiss muttered wearily, “Is that it?”

“Yes, but that’s not all.” Winter replied as she closed her eyes, “The woman didn’t get in by the usual means. Therefore, due to the prodding of a certain friend of our father’s, there is a vested interest in her success here.”

A grimace of disgust passed quickly over Winter’s face, almost unnoticed by Weiss, as she sucked in a deep gust of air. The sigh that followed sounded distinctly defeated.

“I _despise_ little more than I do bureaucracy, Weiss.” She said at last, “But, as I said earlier, my hands are tied and I cannot simply fail and expel her. If she fails this make-up battery, of course, then she’s gone.”

Weiss’ heart stirred oddly, with the same unknown feeling that greeted her when she saw her partner’s silent tears earlier. She shut the sensation from her mind.

“Which ones did she fail?” the heiress asked, trying to ignore the odd sensation.

“All but Psychology, apparently.” Winter replied with a hint of praise, “It’s her major, from what I understand, and it seems a good fit. Unfortunately, to graduate from this university, as you know, she has to cross-major in the company’s key aspects. Namely: Business Economics; Business Ethics; Sociology; Market Management; and Advanced IT.”

Weiss was doing well in all the subjects her sister had just listed, something she felt more than a little pride in herself for. Still, she marveled at the mountainous task ahead of her partner, whom she assumed wholly inadequate for the trial. It sent another of those peculiar pangs through her as she thought of how the bubbly woman must be dealing with the challenging nature of this place.

“So, how did she do in Economics?” Weiss inquired hopefully.

“Thirty-two percent.” Winter replied flatly, “I made sure to grade hers first, and she failed magnificently, dear sister.”

A thin ribbon of pain suddenly passed from ear to ear in Weiss’ skull as a headache began to threaten its presence. She put the middle and pointer of each hand to her temples and began to rub them softly, hoping to coax the beast away. She knew now that her assumptions of the woman, unkind though they may have been, were nearly spot on.

“We only take the best of the best, Weiss.” Winter started up again, still sitting in that unusually relaxed manner, “This Ruby Rose is definitely not that, yet Mr. Axter seems wholly convinced that she be given as much leeway as possible.”

The name struck a chord in Weiss, bringing an image to light. She once more thought of the little old tutor of hers, a long-time friend of her father’s, that had always hobbled around on his twisted wooden cane. He had always been insistent that the heiress should know more of propriety and morality than anything academic, leading to much of her disillusionment when she later saw the world for what it was.

All the same, however, she had retained a sense of gratefulness for his efforts.

“He’s the one?” she asked in disbelief.

“Apparently, though I have no idea why.” Winter affirmed, opening her eyes and sitting up properly once more, “So, will you do this, Weiss?”

“I don’t exactly have an option.” Weiss mused.

“Of course you do, sister.” Winter replied with a sly grin, “You could always give up and deny the _request_ I’ve made.”

Weiss eyed her sister’s cold stare, considering the words briefly. She knew full well that she was being goaded, as was Winter’s usual Mo, yet she knew better than to play into it. There was also, aside from Winter’s obvious trap, a reason to accept the ‘requested’ task.

Mr. Axter’s tired old gaze entered her mind, giving Weiss all the reason she needed to reply as she did.

“Oh, I’ll do it.” She said coolly, flashing her own sly grin, “Count on it, Sis.”

Winter was taken aback somewhat by the look in Weiss’ eye.

 

Ђ

 

The cup of strong coffee she held in her hands shook nervously, much like the rest of Ruby’s body. Her silver eyes were wide as dinner plates, from the caffeine as much as the anxiety eating at her this very moment. Her teeth chattered and her skin crawled as she looked over the pile of tests laid out in front of her, covering the scratched surface of Weiss’ coffee table. She darted her gaze from test to test, reading and rereading the large red numbers on each.

Weiss sat beside her, looking carefully through her student handbook. She was leaned back and relaxed as much as her partner was huddled forward and anxious. One leg sat atop the other, the back of one knee overtop of the other, as she lightly kicked at the air. Her cool and collected demeanor was the antithesis of Ruby’s at this moment as she sipped at her own coffee, held haphazardly in the other hand.

This scene had played out rather unchanged for the last hour, ever since Weiss had brought her partner to her own dorm-room for a session of hard study. Thus far, however, it had only consisted of the heiress trying to satisfy a curiosity while her partner seemed sure that her grades would magically change if she only kept staring at them.

They did not, of course, no matter how hard she gazed.

“You’re a psychology major, right?” Weiss asked, breaking the silence and startling Ruby.

The woman jumped only slightly, sloshing some of the bitter beverage onto her hand. It was lucky that the coffee was no longer piping hot.

“Yes…” she seemed to apologize more than affirm.

Weiss closed the book with a muted thud, sitting up and tossing it onto the table. She hadn’t felt this comfortable in years when it came to a relaxed atmosphere, though it did not occur to her that this was the case. Her mind was already busy putting together lesson plans and ideas for pounding the information into her partner’s head. This left little free space in her conscious mind to wonder why she was presently so at home with herself.

“It looks like Business Economics is your worst subject, huh?” Weiss said as she picked up the test and started flipping through its pages.

“Yeah…” Ruby sighed, “But, I’ve never really been good at math. Asking me to name all these obscure formulae and algorithms is just cruel!”

“It’s not just you, Ruby…” Weiss chided absentmindedly, “Everyone here has to take these five classes just to graduate; along with whatever major one choses, that’s what makes this university so prestigious.”

The heiress’ icy-blues crawled across the paper, making note of each wrong answer and speculating the possible train of thought that might’ve led to it. Ruby watched this as she took another sip from the lukewarm coffee, cringing slightly at the bitterness.

“Look here...” Weiss spoke at last, leaning toward the woman, “This formula can be most easily recalled if you observe how it’s set up.”

“Take this and this…” she continued, marking a few numbers and clusters of numbers, “and if you move them here, adding them up on their own, it should make more sense.”

Ruby’s eyes grew wide with amazement as she watched. The formula did indeed make more sense when she saw it solved in the heiress’ manner, after rearranging the numbers and using them in a different equation. She took another careful sip of the coffee, this time not even remotely noting the bitterness.

“And this one…” Weiss began, showing the awed woman yet another way to rearrange a formula for easier recollection.

This went on for two hours as Weiss gave her partner method after method for easier memorization of the admittedly complex material. The session was interrupted thirty minutes in, predictably, when the heiress took a break to refill their coffee. From there, it proceeded exactly the same until a certain zenith was reached.

Weiss finally realized, after the two hours of acting as a tutor for the first time in her life, just how underequipped the woman was for the MTU. She decided it best to learn more of her foe, that being Ruby’s seeming lack of capability, and stopped their lesson to pose her questions.

“Ruby…” she began gingerly, unusual for her, as she sat the present test paper on the table, “Why did you _actually_ decide to come here?”

The woman looked at her quizzically, tilting her head to the right like a puppy hearing a strange new noise. Her silver eyes glimmered wonderingly in the light given off from one of the ancillaries over Weiss’ desk. She moved to set her coffee down, turning her eyes back to the table, and took a deep breath of air before releasing an equally deep sigh. It sounded positively relieved.

“I’m here because you offered to help me study for make-ups, Weiss.” She replied cheerily.

The heiress could only stare her down with a look of mixed amazement and curiosity, which turned swiftly to mild ire when she realized the woman was blatantly playing dumb. She clucked her tongue angrily as she crossed her arms and leaned back into the sofa. She kept her gaze leveled on the woman, her icy eyes now giving off a distinct look of exasperation.

“There are many other universities and colleges aside from this one, Ruby.” She said matter-of-factly, “You could have gone to any number of other places that would let you study psychology in peace. Places that wouldn’t ask you to study and learn five _awfully_ _hard_ subjects in just five years.”

Weiss narrowed her eyes, watching the woman as she tried to measure her up. Unknown to the heiress, Ruby did exactly the same, sans the narrowed eyes, as she turned her own gaze to see how well the heiress saw through her, if at all.

“So, why this university?” Weiss asked again, relaxing her posture.

Ruby looked away, breaking the stare down, and took hold of her coffee again. She still jittered a little with the caffeine rush that was only just letting go of her, yet, as she raised the delicate cup to her lips, she put on her most mature air of calm and composure. She took a long, deep sip and let the warm bitterness sit for a moment, thinking hard how she should reply, before finishing with a satisfied sigh.

“I guess you could say I was… forced?” she half replied, half asked, as she took another slow sip.

“I beg your pardon?” Now Weiss was sitting up, her back stiffening with indignation as she gazed accusingly at her partner. Her eyes said loudly what her prudish nature, now mostly healed and returned in full force, would never let her.

“People have _literally_ killed to get in here, Missy.” The heiress spat with no attempt to hide her growing ire, “People study their whole lives and subject themselves to all sorts of humiliations and owed favors to get in here. People have been turned away, who were more than capable of paying any price to attend, simply because their intellect won them no spot and they didn’t know anyone to pull some strings.”

Ruby was still considering the mouthful of coffee that sat on her tongue, the last drops of her cup, as the heiress rambled on.

“I’m sorry, but explain to me how you were _forced_ to attend a university where people borrow, beg, cheat, steal or even _murder_ to just get their foot in the door?” Weiss finished, now huffing and panting for air.

“My sister…” Ruby replied listlessly, setting the empty cup down, “And some weird little guy named ‘Asten’ or ‘Axen’…”

As though her blood weren’t already boiling, Weiss all but coiled up like an angry viper on the inside at the mention of her old tutor’s name. Her face flushed red and her arms shook as they sat crossed over her bosom, which now heaved heavily with strained breath.

“Axter?” she questioned as calmly as she could manage.

“Yeah, that was it!” Ruby replied, energetically but still a tad morose in her tone.

“What does he have to do with you getting in here?” the heiress inquired, her tone relaxing only slightly.

“Well, it’s a long story…” Ruby said with what looked like embarrassment.

“I have _plenty_ of time.”

Weiss had not lied; she had time, much and more, with which she could presently do most anything. It had struck her as odd, earlier, that her old tutor had anything to do with the woman’s enrollment. Now though, with the word ‘forced’ being thrown into the mix, she was all ears and ready to devote any amount of time needed to learn the answer.

“My sister, she’s an amazing huntress…” Ruby stated admiringly as she began to recount a story that would last well into the night.

 

Ђ

 

Weiss remembered much of what was being told to her, though it was an odd thing to hear one’s own history recounted from a different angle. It held her interest in full as the raven-headed woman recounted it in splendid detail. The way she embellished each bit of it told the heiress that the woman held no small amount of admiration for her older sister, this ‘Blazing Sol’, and that it might even border on something like idolization.

Some four years earlier, as Weiss herself recalled, her father had received a call while on one of his rare visits to his younger daughter’s college. He had wasted no time, as soon as it was made apparent that it was business related, in excusing himself to attend to the matter. He left Weiss alone at the table they had been sharing, sitting near a window in the little tea shop just outside the school.

She remembered well his scowling face when he’d returned, his cup of tea now cold and his daughter’s all but consumed. She also remembered well, as he gave her what little detail he was willing to, the feeling of acid crawling up her throat and needles poking her heart.

“The White Fang, along with some weird tamed Grimm, took that Axter dude hostage.” Ruby said, pulling Weiss back into the moment and away from her memories, “So, Beacon dispatched my sister to get him back as something of a graduation test. Her and another girl, one I’ve never met, that calls herself… Nightshade, I think.”

Weiss poured them both more coffee from the carafe sitting in front of them, filling their cups nearly over. The steaming liquid poured out like flowing ichor, sending the aroma of charred chestnut throughout the private dorm-room. She then took a cup and handed it to her partner, almost dropping it as she listened to the story with utter intrigue.

“They found him in a mostly abandoned city, one that had been lost and decimated in the last war.” She continued, cup in hand, “For a strike-team of only two, the mission was considered nearly impossible. I swear, I could’ve killed that idiot headmaster when I found out. Dad said the same thing, come to think of it…”

She trailed off in remembrance, taking a slow sip, before moving on.

“She told me they found him in an even older city, buried deep beneath the ruined one, that had a train-track running through it. They stopped the White Fang and killed lots of Grimm, but realized that a train had departed with their rescue target onboard.

“They followed after it on foot and caught the thing before it got to speed. Then, while they were making their way through, she told me they fought some weird girl with an umbrella. Oh, and the weirdest thing about her…”

Ruby leaned in close, as though she were going to share a juicy secret.

“Her eyes were constantly changing between brown, pink and white. Or, so my sister swears.”

She leaned back, sporting one of her goofy grins, and took yet another nip of her coffee. The warm feeling was very welcome in the slight cold that pierced the room, reaching them from the frigid air outside that overpowered the amazing insulation of the building. It also helped her to keep going on, nervous as she was that her newfound friend might not believe her or, heavens forfend, might even not like her after hearing how she got in.

She was already knee-deep and it was swim no matter which way she went from here. Thus, with another warming sip, she went on.

“Anyway, to make a long story short, they found him in the head-car.” She went on, a twinkle now glowing brightly in her silver eyes, “My sister and Nightshade, they stopped the guy that was making Axer-”

“Axter.” Weiss corrected.

“Right, him. They stopped the guy that was trying to make him program a bomb or something. Then, the three went and stopped the train from crashing into a blockade at the tunnel’s end, saving an entire city from countless subterranean Grimm!”

Ruby jumped up and waved her arms through the air, as though proclaiming the sheer awesomeness of her idolized sister, and unwittingly threw the better part of half a cup of coffee across the room. She yelped in surprise and horror as soon as she realized what she’d done, her face burning red with embarrassment almost instantly.

She dropped the cup, which, amazingly, did not explode into a thousand pieces, and slapped her hands over her mouth in disbelief. She remembered, suddenly, why her sister never let her have coffee when they were younger.

“I’ll clean it up later.” Weiss stated calmly, as though it were perfectly normal to sling one’s beverage in excitement, “Please, continue. Let me hear the last of this.”

Ruby looked away from the long splatter of coffee that covered a swath of the carpet, and even the right half of the foot of the heiress’ bed, and rested her silver eyes on her partner. To her utter surprise, Weiss looked absolutely entranced and seemed not to give the lesser of two shits about what had just been done with her expensive libation, to her expensive room no less.

“I’m sorry, Weiss…” Ruby muttered abashedly as she sat back down.

“I _said_ I’ll clean it up.” Weiss replied, sounding somewhat irritated, “So, like I also said, please go on. I want to hear the rest of this because I have more questions for you; if my intuition is right that is.”

Ruby swallowed audibly, pushing the lump that had formed in her throat away, and went on as bid.

“Well, when they got back to Beacon, that Asser dude-”

“ _Axter_.”

“Right, right, Axter…” now her face was positively blazing with red, camouflaging the crimson tips of her hair, “He was really nice and offered to give my sis a little something extra for all her awesome work. He told her he’d give her anything she asked for that was in his power, so long as it wasn’t too outrageous. So, she thought for a while and asked him if she could take him up on it later. When he told her yes, she thanked him and took some leave to come home.

“I guess she ended up choosing what she did because I’ve never been really strong. She knew I wanted to be a huntress too when we were little, but since an accident when we were really young I’ve gotten sick very easy. Signal wouldn’t take me because of that, and since she blamed herself, I guess, she sorta took it on herself to be twice the huntress for both of us.”

Ruby stopped and almost looked as though she were thinking deeply. Her eyes shut and her right hand rose, middle and pointer extended, to begin rubbing the side of her head. The odd gesture passed as quickly as it came.

“She came home while I was going to a local college.” Ruby resumed, interlacing her fingers and placing her hands on her lap, “She hung around for a week before asking me to join her for a little trip into the nearby city. We went to a few places, even got some ice-cream, and then she asked me something funny. Something I didn’t get until a weird letter came in the mail last year.

“She asked me if I still wanted to help people. I said yes, of course, and she just left it at that.”

Ruby stopped and looked closely at Weiss, noticing that the heiress seemed far and away from the present moment. She looked to the woman much like she was lost in recollection, which was spot on the mark. She was, however, quite intently listening all the same.

“Please, finish.” She said, moving her hand in a circle from the wrist.

“Well, she went back to Beacon and graduated.” Ruby went on obligingly, “Three years after that, right after I got my first job with my technical degree, I got a weird letter in the mail in a really fancy envelope. It said I had been accepted into this place and that I needed to come in for an interview, which led up to this, I guess.”

“Well, that answers most of it.” Weiss said, “But I do have a few more questions, if you’d humor me.”

Ruby regarded her partner with wide eyes. She’d not yet, in the full six months she’d been at the university, heard the woman speak so humbly. It was almost scary.

“Yeah, sure…” she muttered cautiously.

“It’s good to know who saved my favorite tutor, and I suppose it’s pretty neat that his savior’s sister is attending with me, but I have to ask…”

Weiss paused, her face twisting as she considered her question. It looked like she was chewing something very nasty in her mind.

“Why would you start, um...”

She paused once more as it came again, washing over her face like some awful smell had found her nose. Ruby almost laughed, barely hiding the chuckle as Weiss’ brain continued to turn circles.

“Why did I start stripping?” Ruby spoke up, finishing the heiress’ thought.

“Yeah… that.” Weiss affirmed, looking miserably embarrassed.

The raven-headed woman snorted a short giggle, leaning back on the couch before the real laughter could come tearing out. She clutched her stomach and shook as she tried to stifle the attack, tears welling in her eyes from the withheld laughter. After a few moments of this, perhaps a minute at most, she sat back up and regarded the heiress with her widest smile yet.

“You don’t have to act so reserved, Weiss.” She said happily, “It’s been a while now since I made you that promise. Aren’t we friends, yet?”

Weiss’ face washed red, her ears even beginning to burn, as that odd feeling shot through her heart again. It felt like even the ice of her icy-blue eyes would melt.

She turned her face away and mumbled something under her breath.

“What?” Ruby said, cupping her right ear.

“Nothing!” the heiress replied indignantly, “Just answer my question…”

Ruby’s silver eyes glimmered even brighter as she gave one more heartwarming chuckle. It sent the oddest feeling yet through Weiss’ spine.

“I passed the entrance exams, by some kinda miracle, but failed to qualify for a scholarship.” She said flatly yet jovially.

“This place has scholarships?” Weiss half asked, half barked in surprise.

“Well, for us poorer folks that manage to get in, yeah. But I couldn’t qualify, not smart enough I guess, so I had to figure out how to pay it myself and fast.”

The smile stayed on her face as she went on, but it seemed to dim gradually. Weiss only barely noticed and noted this.

“I didn’t want my sister to know, so I went and tried to find a way to pay for it myself. Needless to say, I almost passed out when I saw the tuition total. Still, I thought to myself, there must be some way to pay for it here. Someone willing to sponsor me or something, you know? I just couldn’t let her down, not after she got me in here already.”

The woman’s silver eyes lolled slowly to the picture-frame on Weiss’ bed, sticking there as she went on.

“So I went to the city to find _some_ kind of work.” She went on, now sounding off somehow, “I applied to a few places, but none of them would pay enough for me to make it work. Then, while I was walking through the Oasis District, this guy approached me. He startled me, of course, and I was ready to run away at first, and I can run _really_ fast.

“But when he started talking to me, I could see he wasn’t dangerous. I’ve always had a good eye for seeing through people.”

Weiss knew this last statement to be nothing if not true.

“He talked to me for a bit. We even went to sit in that park while we kept on talking. When it came to what I was doing just wandering around, I told him I needed a job, and a well-paying one at that, and I needed it fast. So he asked me what I needed it for and I told him.

“Gosh, Weiss, I’ve never seen someone laugh as much as he did after I told him. I thought he’d never stop, I even thought someone might call the police on him. When he finished, though, he finally introduced himself and offered me a job. He said his name was Mahogany Saxton and he needed a new dancer at his club very badly. He told me I looked like I could handle it and even offered to let me work short hours.”

She stopped as a look of shame washed over her soft features, her silver eyes glossing as though tears were suddenly fighting to be let through. Whatever it was, however, she pushed it away and went on admirably.

“When he explained to me that it was basically stripping, I felt like slapping him and walking away. If he hadn’t quickly explained that most of his dancers were students here, and that he _made_ them all wear masks to hide their identity, I might have done just that. The last nail in that coffin was when he said he’d pay my way in full if I danced for just two years.”

She turned her silver gaze to lock with Weiss’ icy-blues, sending a jolt of what felt like electricity through the heiress. There was pleading in those eyes; pleading for mercy, for repudiation and for relief. It hurt her to see it, for some reason she couldn’t put her finger on, and it made Weiss herself feel like she might shed a tear or two.

She had _never_ felt that way about another person.

“How could I say no?” Ruby asked, almost pleaded, with that same look of hurt in her eyes, “I _couldn’t_ say no. I _didn’t_ say no…”

It was small and thin and barely noticeable when the first tear dropped. With no small effort, Ruby kept it at only the one tiny stream as her face grew redder.

“I couldn’t let my sister down by wasting this chance, and I certainly couldn’t tell her I failed to make it on my own, so I went for it. I felt dirty, too, you know? Dirty and exposed and… just… _filthy_.”

She stopped and turned her gaze away, wrapping her arms about herself as she thought of it. She shook with disgust and nausea as the feeling washed through her. The usual air of unbreakable happiness and unassailable positivity was all but gone, replaced with the truth of her feelings as the woman bore herself to her partner. She had not intended to, not at first, but found herself unable to stop the revelations as she went on.

Perhaps it was the excitement of having a friend, at last, in this oh so foreign place she now resided.

“That’s why you chased me, isn’t it?”

Weiss’ voice, as well as her question, pierced the woman like an arrow of ice. It nearly stopped her heart in its tracks as the truth bit into her; a truth, she realized at this moment, that she had not fully comprehended herself. It would’ve relieved her, if only a little, to know that the heiress understood it even less so than she did.

“Yeah, that’s part of it.” Ruby agreed listlessly, “I was glad to know that someone else, someone like _you_ , had anything at all to do with a place like that. It made me feel like I wasn’t a total screw-up and, in some weird way, like maybe I was doing something right.”

Ruby relaxed herself a tad, unfurling her arms and leaning back against the sofa.

“When your mask came off, and I saw it really _was_ you, I couldn’t just let you go off to whatever you were running into. You looked so… naked with fear. And that’s saying something, considering I was on my way to being nude on a stage, you know?

“I chased you because I wanted to help get that look of terror out of your eyes. I only saw it for a moment before you ran off, but I still knew I couldn’t leave it at that. So, I went after you…”

The room was silent for a time; silent as the grave. The only sounds that permeated the still atmosphere were the occasional soft whispers of the groaning wind, billowing the cold of winter through the outside air, that managed to pierce the building’s walls. Every now and again, a door could also be heard, though only barely, as some other important personage went about their business in some other part of the dormitory.

Otherwise, it was only the silence between these two as each thought over what had just been laid out.

 

Ђ

 

Weiss was relieved, if calling it such did the feeling justice, to finally know who had saved Mr. Axter. Her father had spent no small fortune to see the man returned alive and well. He knew intimately what the White Fang did to members of his company, and important ones even more so, and had no intent to simply watch and wait while the poor old man likely faced a terrible death.

It felt odd, as well, to know that she was partnered with the sister of the man’s savior. Had she been more of a religious or even superstitious person, Weiss might’ve considered lending credence to the preposterous idea of fate. Yet, whatever it was, it made her happy in some small, underused part of her heart. It brought a smile to her barely-pink lips as she thought about it.

Then there was the matter of Ruby, who now looked as though she’d just been given some unimaginably awful news. It was clear to the heiress, of course, what that look across her raven-haired partner’s face really was.

It was the look of shame and guilt that accompanies self-doubt and supposition that is smashed by conflicting opinions and attitudes, both internal and external, when one takes a chance on something unfamiliar only to find themselves neck-deep and unable to swim. It was the very same look that had decorated her own scarred face, as she had stared deeply into her mirror on many nights these last years. It was the look of disgust that comes when your heart says you’re a good person and your mind says you’re an amoral monster.

She knew it well; well enough to hate seeing it on the woman’s face, that is.

“So, are you going to keep doing it?” Weiss asked suddenly, breaking the silence like a hammer.

“Doing what?” Ruby asked in reply, her gaze now trained on the ceiling as she lay back against the couch.

“Making your sister proud by getting by with your own hands.”

This shot deep and well, hitting the morose and abashed woman right where the guilt was strongest. It seemed to crack, almost enough to be felt, as the iron grip loosened, if only a little. She turned her silver eyes to the heiress, the look of pleading now mixed with curiosity.

“You may not be doing it how you imagined, and I don’t doubt it makes you feel…” Weiss trailed off, thinking of how to say it, “I’m sure it makes you feel used, but you’re doing it on your own. You’re taking the opportunity she gave you and making it work. Wouldn’t that make her proud?”

Ruby looked as though she might truly burst into tears as the iron chains of guilt weakened further under Weiss’ sage words. Her lip trembled and her eyes glimmered even more with tears barely held in check. Yet, as this went on, those trembling lips managed to curl upward in the weakest of smiles.

“You’re right, Weiss…” she said at last, sounding far and away, “Thank you…”

Weiss felt it again, and was now growing somewhat perplexed as much so as annoyed with the feeling, as Ruby’s tone sent that odd twinge through her heart. It was warm and gentle, but it made the underused organ feel as though it must suddenly begin racing. She didn’t dislike it, per se, but she was growing tired of not understanding it.

“Well, you’ve got one part down pat at least.” The heiress mused, “Now we just have to get you set on the grades, no?”

Ruby wiped away a few tears that had managed to fall free and gave the woman one of her bright smiles. It stemmed both from the heiress’ words as well as the fact that, as it now seemed, the snowy-haired woman had warmed up to her.

The study went on for another hour, after their long palaver had eaten up four by itself, before they packed up and parted ways. Ruby left with a smile decorating her soft features once more and went on her way to the small apartment in which she stayed. Weiss saw her off with a fonder wave than she had given anyone in recent memory, returning to her room and going about cleaning up the mess from earlier.

When she finally turned in for the night, the heiress’ heart felt unusually warm. She thought briefly that she must be getting sick.


	5. Steamed Ice

Chapter 5

Steamed Ice

 

Ͼ

 

It was slow and inconspicuous when first they came. So very like the faint trickle of water that precedes a flash-flood, the torrential tides gave fair warning months before their assailment started in full and earnest. Indeed, the first of them all were hardly more than mere whispers in the back of her head. With long and flowing tresses atop, the solid stark-white of fresh snow, they meandered and tumbled around inside the head that, until very recently, had housed little more than schemes and vast oceans of knowledge.

The first came as what felt like an arrow of ice, piercing deep into her once-frozen heart, that suddenly and unexpectedly turned into a seething infernal claw, setting that formerly iced organ ablaze. It reminded her that her heart was, in fact, there and did, also in fact, have a purpose aside from merely pumping the icy mixture that was her life’s blood. It reminded her that the organ was, once upon a time, a thriving hub for the feelings and thoughts that made her human.

The second, and more recent, came like a typhoon. It blew in clear out of nowhere, tearing up long-held ideals and misconceptions as a storm might uproot trees, leaving her head spinning and her heart pounding like some sick war drum. It tossed her thoughts and thought processes over on their heads, showing her once more that believing yourself knowledgeable and in control was likely one of the biggest mistakes one could make.

The final, and most recent of them all, having only occurred in the last week, came like the barely noticeable whisper of a bomb falling from the sky, its impact indistinguishable from the telltale destruction that would shortly follow that whistle. It came from a simple place, a place that was little more than words shared between scholarly partners. Yet, with the hint of trust and interdependence in the exchange of these words, the effect was made so much more.

A story, of whys and wherefores, that led shortly into an unspoken exchange of pleading and entrusting. A tale of fate’s own weave, giving reason and shedding light upon deeper reasons, that gave her cause to open herself, for once in a very long time, to the simplest of things. Those pleading silver eyes, failing in their attempt to hold tears back, along with the trembling voice that relayed the tale, gave her all the reason she needed.

All the reason to open her heart to possibility.

 

Ђ

 

And thusly she found herself, sitting across the table from the smiling face of the woman with whom she’d spent her last six days rapt in hard study. Sitting there perusing the local paper as a cup of dark tea sat beneath, its aromatic steam wafting up ever so lazily to tickle her nose, while that grinning face watched her with what looked like unbreakable interest. The silver eyes above the grin, which shone like the surface of a finely polished silverware platter, glimmered with no less than a little hint of satisfaction and amusement. They danced all along her face, almost to the point it could be felt, as the woman to whom they belonged continued to wait.

“Admit it, Weiss…” Ruby said in an impish hue, her grin widening until her eyes began to squint, “You don’t know the answer!”

She ignored her, of course, as she continued to play at reading the paper held uninterestedly with her right hand. While she scanned her eyes over the font, for the seventh time upon the same line, her left hand reached carefully for the steaming beverage beneath. One finger reached out and snaked around the delicate handle of the teacup, raising it slowly to her lips with the pinky held out. After a delicate, incredibly garish sip, the cup and hand withdrew to just about the middle of the table, hovering there while her icy eyes continued to scan the same line on the paper.

She nearly dropped the cup when she felt the delicate pinky of her partner reach out and curl about her own, sending fire and lightning through her body.

Weiss slammed the paper down at once, eliciting both a jump and surprised yelp from the woman across from her. The pinky, however, did not let go as the silver-eyed woman nearly leapt from her seat.

“Of course I know it!” Weiss shouted insistently, trying her best to sound sure, “I just need the time to figure it out…”

She turned her gaze down to the paper, now laying in somewhat of a crumpled mess on the table, and attempted to take another sip of her tea. Ruby’s pinky, still interlocked with her own, prevented the attempt from accomplishing much more than spilling a few drops on the paper.

“Let go, I say!” Weiss shouted, grabbing the delicate cup with her other hand and yanking her pinky free.

Ruby only giggled in response, seemingly proud of herself for getting the heiress’ attention back to the present. The same goofy grin, looking more and more like the Cheshire face of her wristwatch, still decorated Ruby’s face as Weiss leaned back in her seat.

“Fine, fine…” she muttered, closing her icy-blues and placing her right hand to her forehead, “Tell it to me once more… And slowly, mind you, so I can make it all out…”

Ruby grinned even wider, as though her face might split, and obliged, “What is always invisible, but never out of sight?” she asked, slowly as bid.

Weiss groaned in exasperation as she began to rub her forehead, stroking the points where a headache had begun to setup shop. She loved riddles as though it were all her heart knew how to love. She had spent many an afternoon, after the day’s lessons had been finished to satisfaction, playing them with little old Mister Axter. She had been pleased oh so many times when she would get one right and the little old man’s cheeks would puff up with a smile, turning the deep rosy hue of just-ripened apples.

She loved them, and knew more than her own lion’s share of them, but, for some gods-only-know reason, _this_ one refused to yield to the immutable light of the heiress’ logic. And, judging by the Cheshire grin on her face, Ruby was loving every bit of the fact that she had stumped her partner, and with one of her own strong suits at that.

“Do you give up, yet?” Ruby asked.

Weiss opened one eye, the left that held her signature scar like a proud badge of some titanic battle, and leveled the cold glare she’d spent years perfecting at the woman. Ruby’s grin, surely at the apex of its possible width, didn’t falter in the slightest. It was truly a scene to behold.

“No…” Weiss replied after a moment’s consideration, flatly and cold as her one-eyed stare.

She shut the eye again, leaning her head back further and stroking her temples more vigorously, as she ran the single line through her head over and over.

Eyes were always invisible, to their owner at least, but were never out of sight, lest one was blind. It fit, yes, but only to the degree of half-hearted satisfaction. Air, also, was always invisible to the naked and untrained eye, yet its effects were easily seen and felt. Emotion, yes, that was also invisible but had effects that could be plainly seen when in full force, leaving them never out of sight entirely. Plenty of good answers for the choosing rolled around in her mind like such.

Yet, as the silver-eyed stare suggested, the heiress was bereft of the surety to choose one of her many good answers.

“It must be thoughts.” Weiss said at last, gritting her teeth as the words left her lips. She knew immediately, as the last flash of her own thoughts checked it over, that she had answered wrong.

“Nope.” Ruby chirped happily, shutting her eyes as her grin grew wider still, eventually giving way to a heartwarming laugh that could melt stone.

The heiress clucked her tongue angrily, losing a tad more of her composure than she might’ve liked, as she contemplated what this might mean. She had gambled, as was not uncommon for her when she felt she had the advantage, and it was beginning to seem she might lose.

“The answer, then?” she asked querulously, leaning her head forward to look at the silver-eyed vixen.

Ruby’s face took on a tad more of a serious look, her grin thinning before receding altogether. Her eyes opened wide at first, then thinned to slits as she locked her gaze to Weiss’. The bubbly woman took on an air as if she were facing her partner at a noonday showdown, readying herself to sling steel and dust in the throes of a heated tete-a-tete duel.

The nearly lunatic grin waiting to be released, held just beneath her serious surface, was only barely hidden as she gave the true answer.

“The answer is…” she began, trailing off as she tried to stifle the giggle that wanted free.

The heiress was now leaning over the table, unconsciously of course, as she held her bated breath with anticipation. Ruby felt as if she might explode with laughter at the sight of it.

“The answer… is the letters I and S!” she finished, quickly as she could, before the laughter won out.

She clutched her stomach and leaned forward with the force of the guffaws issuing from her throat. They were loud and many, yet still they retained the same almost squeaky tone of the woman’s voice. This gave them a certain charm that would not allow the heiress’ now thoroughly infuriated mind to win out with anger.

The sound struck a chord in her that kept her from doing more than leveling another cold stare at the woman.

“You cheeky…” she muttered, and let it go at that, “Fine, then. You win that one.”

Weiss took hold of her tea once more, still steaming as she lifted to her lips, and took a much less cultured sip. It burned her tongue a bit, but this was fine. She welcomed the distraction from her loss.

“I have one more for you, then, Ruby.” She said flatly, with just a hint of conniving, as she sat the cup back down.

“I stumped you, though!” Ruby whined in protest, though her gleaming eyes said she was faking, “Doesn’t that mean I win?!”

“Not just yet, Missy.” The heiress replied coolly, “If you get this one, then you win. If you don’t, though, then it’s a draw.”

“That sounds like a sore-loser adding a rule to me.” Ruby moaned, folding her arms, but her stare only begged for the continuation of their little game.

“Think what you will, but that’s my deal. If I’m going to agree to your _terms_ , then I expect you to earn my agreement.”

Weiss folded her arms across her bosom as well, squishing the bit of bulge beneath her short white jacket, and sat up straight in her seat. Her eyes took on that odd mixture of presaged knowing and murderous conviction that Ruby had begun to admire, and perhaps even fear a tad, over the last week of their studies.

Her voice was as calm as the sea after a terrible storm and as powerful as the presence of thunder above one’s very head.

“’Twas in Heaven pronounced, ‘twas muttered in hell, and echo caught faintly the sound as it fell.” She began, seeming to take on an otherworldly aura as she went, “On the confines of Earth it was permitted to rest, and in the depths of its presence there was confessed.

“What is it?” Weiss offered, her voice almost cruel in its confidence.

Ruby stared blankly at the heiress for a moment, as if she had just said something awfully uncouth or upsetting. Her face lost all semblance of expression as her eyes grew wider than saucers, giving Weiss the sense that she had pulled a victory from her seeming defeat. Underhanded though the victory might have been, insisting on a last-minute rule change, it was still a win all the same.

“The letter H” Ruby said tonelessly, shattering both Weiss’ thoughts and hopes of victory.

The heiress’ upper lip twitched noticeably at the top-left corner as she considered the fact that her partner had just given the answer, and in only a few moments no less, to one of her favorite and, she assumed, hardest riddles. ‘How’ was only one of perhaps thousands of questions now running through her head.

“That’s… correct…” Weiss muttered weakly as a single strand of her snowy hair drifted across her face.

“Wanna know how I got it so fast?” Ruby offered sweetly, her face once more shining with a grin of satisfaction, now colored further with the obvious want to share her little tale.

Weiss’ blank stare, her jaw somewhat slack to boot, gave her all the answer she needed.

“My sister used to read me lots of different books when we were little…” The silver-eyed woman began, drifting into her memories as she went, “One of my favorites was this ratty old book she’d been given by our mother. It was called ‘ _Riddle-de-Dum_ ’ and had so many fantastic riddles in it.”

Weiss slowly snapped out of her stupefaction, pulling herself together as she pawed the thin trail of drool from the corner of her mouth. She’d heard everything Ruby had said, but the book’s name had been the tidbit that brought her to. She then slouched forward, leaning her cheek onto the balled fist of her left hand, and engaged herself in the little yarn being woven before her.

“We read through that book no telling how many times.” Ruby went on, now looking dreamy and lost in her thoughts, “Most of the answers were torn out of the back, so we could only guess at a good portion of them, but the one you just asked was one of my favorites. When she first read it to me, neither of us could get the answer. We tried and tried, thinking and thinking some more. Just these two little girls trying to figure out a riddle with a bunch of words they didn’t even understand…”

She broke off, her silver eyes coming to rest on the heiress’ intently focused form, and giggled. The sound brought an odd wave of gooseflesh to the heiress’ arms, which she promptly ignored as best she could.

“We finally started asking all the adults we knew.” Ruby continued, “First our uncle, who only took a deep swig from this little metal thing he kept in his coat-pocket before telling us that riddles were ‘ _smart folk’s entertainment_ ’ and he had better things to think about. Then we tried some of the people in town, like the grocer and the other store owners. They all said about the same thing, just more nicely.

“Finally, convinced we’d never know the answer, we gave up and decided to leave well enough alone. After a few days, our dad came and asked us about it. He said he’d been told, by a friendly old crow, that two little girls were trying figure out a really hard riddle. We told it to him and he told us the answer almost immediately, explaining that it was a wordplay and showing us how it worked.”

Ruby ended her little tale with that same wide grin that had decorated her face most of the day. Weiss couldn’t help but avert her gaze, not wanting to invite any more of the strange feelings into her that the grin seemed to bring.

“That’s quite a tale.” She mused, looking out the window beside them into the dreary, rainy mess the day had become.

“I didn’t mean to ramble again.” Ruby replied abashedly, rubbing the back of her head, “Guess I’m just full of tales and ramblings, huh?”

If she hadn’t been looking at the heiress, and so closely to boot, the woman would’ve sworn her silver eyes were playing tricks on her. It was there and then gone the very next instant, like the blur of a shooting star on the edge of the horizon.

“It’s not a bad thing...” Weiss said, or perhaps mused, as she turned her gaze back to the woman with a faint, wan smile coming to life upon her alabaster visage. It was gone in only a moment, something that would have been missed if one merely blinked, but still left an oddly burning sensation in Ruby’s chest.

The fourth of the oddities that had thoroughly disturbed and haunted Weiss in these last months, almost solely on the merit of how foreign and unknown they were, was the consuming heat that passed through her own breast at this very moment. As Ruby’s face first brightened with a rosy hue, after seeing the unknowable smile that had passed so quickly over the heiress’ features, then darkened to a deep scarlet, Weiss found herself almost robbed of breath all at once.

She drank the last of her tea in one gulp, no longer steaming but still hot enough to be uncomfortable, trying to quench the peculiar feeling.

 

Ͼ

 

Another week passed, uneventful and bland as Weiss much preferred, while Ruby took her make-ups during the day and danced during her evenings. They both saw neither hide nor hair of the other during this time, as the heiress had been given the two-week-long reprieve that was gifted to all the other students that passed the initial Winter Battery. Weiss spent her time in self-imposed exile within her room, passing her time with studies and making lesson plans.

Their class had now been shaved to almost half, with a surprisingly large portion of their fellow students having failed the battery and been sent away. Now, at the urging of her sister and, more importantly, Mister Axter, Weiss was pouring herself into putting together ways to help her partner study and maintain her place at the university. She had planned to do so before, of course, for her own self-interests, but only if the woman had managed to pass the first battery on her own.

So the week went. Weiss spent her days either locked up in her room, huddled over her desk as she penned various notes for her own studies or for the lesson plans, or occasionally in the café none too far from their muster-class. She would pop in, grab one of her favorite coffees they proffered, and head straight back to her room. The long walk was worth it for the handcrafted goodness.

When the week had finally come to a close, the wheel of time turning around to the weekend once again, Weiss was once more to be found in her room. She was, as she had been for the last handful of days, huddled over her desk as her pen scratched noisily on a sheet of paper. The white of it was all but gone, now thoroughly covered in ink by her nearly lunatic scribblings, as the heiress poured over her Business Economics book. It was Ruby’s weak spot, this she knew well, and had thus consumed most of her attention as it did this day.

All across the desk lay sheets of paper that were likewise covered in scribblings, of various formulae and methods to reteach them. To her left, steaming under the veritable pile of paper that nearly buried it, was a cup of the café’s finest dark roast. Its tantalizing scent rose with the steam and filled the air, causing the heiress’ mouth to water just a tad every time her delicate nose caught a whiff of it. Just beside the warm polystyrene cup, completely buried in the pile of paper that surrounded it, was a little device that occasionally flashed the current time across its closed face.

It read o-fifteen-hundred hours and was just about to tick over to the next minute when it suddenly came to life, humming and vibrating with startling volume on the hardwood desk. Its tone, ringing shrilly to let its master know a call was coming in, was entirely overpowered by the combination of its vibrating and Weiss’ sudden shriek of surprise.

She nearly fell from her seat as she tensed her back, straightening up and tossing her hands up beside her head. The gust of wind caused by her sudden movement, along with the fact that a few pieces had stuck to her arms, sent most of the papers on her desk flying everywhere.

She huffed angrily as she rummaged through the pile that remained, trying to find the offending object. It took only a few moments, giving it time to ring thrice, before Weiss found the scroll. She slid it open and answered quickly, not wanting to let go of yet another of her old habits, without taking even a moment to check the caller’s name.

_“Almost late to answer, you were, hm?”_ a familiar voice droned into her ear.

Weiss was all but dumfounded by the voice that greeted her, sending her heart into another fit of racing. Had she all of her faculties about her, the heiress might have mused on how much the organ was being taxed this year. She had once thought it all but sealed up and frozen over, but it now seemed that springtide had made its way to the young Schnee.

Perhaps even flowers might soon bloom.

“Axter…” she muttered faintly in reply, feeling a tad hexed, “Is that you?”

_“Indeed, it is.”_ The old man said with a hint of a chuckle in his voice, _“And treat you well has the school-year, so far?”_

“It has.” She found herself agreeing quickly, though, to her mind, the answer felt like a lie. Had she not already suffered one of her worst bouts of humiliation and embarrassment? Had she not ridden the razor’s edge of being outed for her secret hobby? Had she not been accosted by this giggly, bubbly woman that seemed as though she would pop the heiress’ heart with her very presence alone?

It felt much and more like a lie, but, as Weiss knew all too well, she was nearly incapable of lying to this ever-trusted mentor of hers.

_“Hear you met my savior’s sister, I have.”_ Axter tittered on, _“Tell me, as interesting and friendly, as her sister Sol, is she?”_

Weiss thought about it for a moment, having to dissect the old man’s backward sentences just to understand him, before giving another answer that felt oddly like the lie she knew it wasn’t.

“I have, and she is.” She replied almost wearily, finding herself more than a little happy to be talking to the old man, “She’s a bit of an irritating pest, but…”

She paused, gripping for the words in her head. Her brains felt like mush, for some reason she couldn’t quite understand, and the words seemed unwilling to be found.

“She grows on you, I guess.” Weiss offered at last.

_“Much like her sister, then, is she.”_ Axter agreed warmly, _“Full glad to hear you are getting along, am I, Weiss. That she can make the most of this opportunity, make sure of, please.”_

“Of course.” she answered at once. Then, almost as if an afterthought, “Could I ask something, though?”

_“Have it no other way, would I, Weiss. Your question, ask freely.”_

The heiress stopped, wondering briefly why she even wanted an answer to this particular question. It seemed obvious, after all, what the answer was, even without asking. Still, ask she would and ask she did.

“Why didn’t Sol ask for a reward for herself?” Weiss inquired, as though she still believed the little old man knew everything about anything.

He chuckled lightly, reminding her of a squeaky door hinge.

_“If break me you do, stop working I will not. If touch me you can, done my work is. If lose me you do, then with a ring on my finger must you soon after find me.”_

Weiss giggled at this and almost immediately hated herself a tad for the girlish gesture. She was beyond happy that no one was in the room with her to see the scarlet color her face turned.

“Her heart, then?” she said, trying to ignore the little incident.

_“So it is.”_ Axter agreed, _“Have much caring and love for her sister, Sol does. For herself a better reward there could not be found, I think.”_

Weiss pondered the statement, wondering if it could actually be true. It seemed foreign to her to believe that people could actually act with such selflessness; Mister Axter notwithstanding…

_“Glad you are well, am I, Weiss.”_ He chimed in suddenly, pulling her from the musings, _“The best of this, please make. For both of you, hm?”_

“What do you mean?” Weiss asked, though she thought she might already know.

_“Better for the soul than food for the body, friendship is.”_ Axter said as though he believed Weiss did indeed know, _“Do you well I think this will. Be well and hearty until again we talk, hm?”_

She smiled at the last comment, musing over how concerned the old man had always been about her.

“Take care of yourself too, Axter.” She responded softly.

Goodbyes were not needed between the two, so close was the bond that had formed years earlier. It had indeed been buried under feet of ice in recent times, yet the occurrence of even more recent events seemed to have melted this ice and made way for these things to resurface.

Thus, with a few parting pleasantries, the line disconnected and the heiress shut the scroll. She placed it on her desk once more and returned to her task, first setting about to pick up her scattered papers. They lay strewn all across the floor, and some had even managed to find their way behind the desk, but she made short work of collecting and organizing them.

It was when she sat down at the desk once more, placing the now-neater pile on a clear spot, that Weiss uttered another girlish shriek.

Her eyes just happened to glance at the clock on her nightstand, flashing its display brightly despite the intense lights overhead. O-sixteen-hundred was flashing bright and bold, reminding the heiress that conversations with the wise old tutor had a habit of seeming to speed up time.

“Shit!” she hissed, ignoring the fact that cursing was so very unlike her.

Weiss leapt from her desk at once and bolted to her wardrobe, throwing it open and haphazardly grabbing the first outfit her eyes put together. She then flung the doors shut with a dull whoosh and bolted for her palatial bathroom, which was far larger than necessary for only one person, and nearly ran into the door on her way in. It barely had time to ascend on its automated track as Weiss crossed the threshold, ducking under the last few inches that hadn’t cleared and setting immediately to stripping down.

The heiress took the quickest shower of her life thus far, still managing to be uncannily thorough in her cleaning, as she wondered exactly why she felt so pushed to be ready.

 

Ђ

 

Once more she found herself walking down the long corridor that led through the dormitory for the more well-to-do students. Her silver eyes leapt all around as they were entranced yet again by the majesty of the appointments of the place, not the least of which being that mesmerizing wallpaper that seemed to dance with mathematical life. The twisting floral pattern, now seen for the umpteenth time, still caught and held her awed stare.

The thinly carpeted floor gave off that same muffled click, resonating from the expert step of the woman’s favorite boots as she walked along. Its own pattern of vaguely floral design, finally noticed by the woman that walked along with her eyes lolling to and fro, twirled and twisted under her moving gaze.

She mused, if only for a moment, at how the residents managed to get about without finding themselves miserably nauseated by the designs. They were beautiful, of this there was no doubt, but they were also quite disorienting. These thoughts had little time to process, however, as the woman’s wandering mind returned to what was clutched in her hands.

This time it was not the giant stack of books and papers she had brought when first she crossed this mesmerizing hallway. What she now carried, barely over an inch thick, shuffled lightly with each step but gave no threat of tilting or spilling over. There would be no girly shriek this time, she assured herself, brought by a massive stack of learning material scattering across the hall.

What she now held was something she simply could not wait to show off, consuming her attention with the thought of displaying her success so much so that she did not notice when she came upon the door she sought.

“Eep!” Ruby yelped in surprise, tossing her hands to her face and gripping her nose.

The pile of papers she’d held, made up of individual piles stapled together, flew across the hallway in the exact manner she’d been sure they absolutely would not. Her nose, now bleeding between the hands clasped to her face, had told her that she’d reached her destination in a most painful way.

Without looking, so consumed with the wallpaper and carpet-patterns, and furthermore with her anticipation, she had run face-first into the door she was after. Her skull had served valiantly as a doorknocker, leaving a loud, and somewhat hollow, thud in the wake of her impact.

“Just a moment!” came a voice from behind the door, which Ruby did not hear as she collapsed to her knees.

She held her nose, feeling the warm trickle of blood between her fingers, as tears began to well up in her eyes. The only thing running through her head now was the fear and worry that she might have broken it. It would be just her luck, of course, that she would come all this way to show off the fruits of her hard work, only to run her face into something while distracted with those exact thoughts.

Much unlike herself, Ruby muttered a few curses under her breath, marking only the seventh or so time she’d done so in her entire life. The sound of it was, thankfully, entirely drowned out by the faint whoosh of the door rising open.

“Yes…” Weiss answered, peering around dumbly for a moment before her eyes trailed down to see Ruby. It took her a moment more to recognize what she was seeing, which was duly horrifying at first glance.

“Gah! What happened?!” the heiress almost screamed, dropping to sit on her heels for a better look.

Ruby willed her eyes to open a little wider, so she could see through the tears, and tried to give the heiress a grin. It was hidden under the hands wrapped around her nose, which was well and good when one considered that it would have looked more like a pained grimace than a healthy grin, but still managed to puff up her rosy cheeks somewhat.

“I’m fine, Weiss, really.” She entreated, trying not to sound as close to crying as she was, “I just got distracted and ran into the door, that’s all.”

“That’s all?!” Weiss yelled in reply, “For the love of… Look how bad you’re bleeding!”

Weiss parted Ruby’s hands forcefully, pulling them away from the bloody mess beneath with more strength than Ruby had expected, and gasped as soon as they cleared the way.

Her nose was bent sideways, pouring a thin but constant trickle of crimson down her pale upper lip. The contrast of colors might have been poetic were the situation not quite so real and immediate. The heiress spared not a moment of thought for the artistry of the colors, or of the self-inflicted wound for that matter, and leapt to her feet at once.

She disappeared back into her room as Ruby returned her hands to her injured nose, wincing as the pain flared up quite fantastically. She knew if she looked down, which she had absolutely no intention of doing, that she’d see a trail of blood on her dress that led to what was surely becoming a small pool on the floor in front of her.

She groaned with both the nausea of the thought, light though it was, and the pain now throbbing incessantly in the center of her face. It was already beginning to crawl up into her forehead when the heiress returned only a few minutes later, clutching a white box in her hands.

She sat cross legged in front of the injured woman, the black jeans she now wore stretching enticingly against her toned thighs, and opened the box at once to rummage for whatever she thought to use.

“You complete dunce…” she hissed quietly, though her tone held no hint of real ire or condescension.

Ruby forced her silver eyes to open, a thin stream of tears now running from them, and looked at the woman not more than a foot in front of her. Bleary and clouded though her vision was, she could make out, with no small effort, that her partner was dressed quite unusually considering what seemed her normal tastes. The woman now rummaging through what was surely a med-kit was clad in the epitome of casual garb; a far cry from her usually professional appearance even more so than her guise donned for the purpose of attending the Siren’s Call.

She wore a low-cut blouse that looked like layered ruffles laid atop each other in a descending pattern of color; first red, then a sort of ochre like dark earthenware, and finally an odd band of dark orange around the top of her stomach. There, just about the navel, the shirt ended abruptly and left a space of perhaps four inches of bare flesh before her pants took up their place.

These were a solid black sort, tight to the skin, made of what looked like denim on first glance. It was clear that they weren’t, with the way they stretched to her movement, but the illusion was quite convincing. At the beltline there lay a chain, formed of smaller links hooked into large golden loops at every third. The pants ran the full length of the heiress’ shapely legs, ending somewhere inside the tall boots that she wore upon her feet.

These boots were unlike her usual attire in a number of ways, most importantly being that they were also solid black. They reached to the middle of her shin and were laced the entire way, ending on the feet in what looked like the sort of boot a soldier might wear.

Ruby yelped again, louder and more shrilly than before, when she was rudely pulled from her observation by Weiss’ unexpectedly strong grasp.

“Hold still.” Weiss said commandingly as she peeled the woman’s hands from her injured nose once more.

She looked for a moment before turning back to the box and digging around again. This time it was only a moment before she turned back to Ruby, holding two little wooden implements in her hands. She held the one that looked like a square, thick and nicely sanded, out to her injured partner.

“Take this and bite it hard.” She said with the same commanding tone, which somehow managed to sound soft at the same time, “This is about to really suck, but you did a number on your nose…”

Ruby gingerly took hold of the offered bit of wood, opening her mouth carefully so as not to disturb her injured nose further. She placed it on her front teeth and closed her mouth just as carefully.

“All the way, Ruby.” Weiss said, pointing to the bit in the woman’s mouth, “You need to bite on it with your molars, not the front teeth. I don’t want you biting your tongue or breaking your teeth.”

At those words, the raven-headed woman thought she might just pass out entirely. Willing herself not to, she loosened her teeth’s grip and pushed the small block of wood to the back of her mouth as bid. She then clamped down with her molars, harder than she’d meant to, and noticed the faintly delectable flavor of the wood.

As she considered the taste, which was something like chicory mixed with licorice, the heiress moved her other hand into view. It held the other wooden implement, which looked like a little dowel no more than six inches long and thin as a pencil. She started to move toward the woman’s injured nose with the instrument extended, stopping when a look of animalistic fear washed into Ruby’s silver eyes and the woman instinctively pulled away.

“I’m not going to hurt you any more than I _have_ to, Ruby.” Weiss said calmly, letting go of the commanding tone entirely, “This will suck, very badly I’m sure, but your nose has to be set.”

Ruby’s silvers glossed over with tears again, renewing the flow of the thin streamlets running down her cheeks, but she pulled back no further. Weiss could see, and was unsettlingly moved by the sight, a look of fettered trust on her partner’s face. The bit of fear mixed into it sent a shiver of sorrow through her heart.

The heiress leaned forward again, pushing the little dowel into place as gently as she could. Ruby winced and squeaked quietly with the pain, but held firm as Weiss followed her lessons of first aid to the dot. She stopped once the implement was seated in place and locked her icy-blues with her partner’s silvers.

“I’m going to count to three then do it, ok?” she said serenely, reminding Ruby of someone that wouldn’t quite come fully to mind, “Bite hard when I get to one and take a deep breath.”

Weiss took a deep breath herself, then, as a final thought, decided she had one last thing to say.

“I’m sorry...” she whispered, then began, “Three…”

Ruby clenched her hands and cursed her inattentiveness in her mind.

“Two…”

She shivered then, on that single word, and remembered a time when her sister had helped her set a broken finger. It was a silly accident that surely countless other children had had as well, falling the wrong way whilst playing on a playground. She had been brave then…

“One…”

And she would be brave now, or so she thought. She clenched her teeth hard and sucked air into her lungs, readying herself for it.

Without a word, Weiss pinched the woman’s nose and pulled hard to the left, pushing slightly against her face as well, with a deathly tight grip on the dowel. There was a dry pop, as the nose settled back into place, along with a sharp bolt of pain clear into the woman’s skull.

Her eyes rolled up in their sockets and Ruby fell quite deeply asleep in the very next instant.

 

α

 

There were no true dreams, only the deep and comforting sleep of total exhaustion. It wrapped her in its cold and soothing embrace, pulling the raven-headed woman deeper into its grasp. It brought with it colors and sensations, not unlike one might see if ravaged with intoxicants or psychoactives. They crawled across her sleeping view, the semiconscious eye of her unconscious mind, as though a river of base perception and thought.

Purples and crimsons flowered and bloomed, peeling off into indistinguishable shapes as they bled along the river of her dreamscape. These were joined in short fashion by greens and blues and yellows that twirled into whirlpools of the rainbow, bringing with them another sensation. The colors each seemed to have their own olfactory stimulant, calling to mind the aroma of sandalwood and walnut and even hints of alpine.

She stirred, feeling a soft sensation under her body as she moved about. It sent with it the fleeting image of grass stretching verdant and cozy across a massive savannah. The image left quickly but, as she lay in the throes of her slumber, the woman imagined herself to be taking a nap in the sunny vastness of such a place.

She could feel the cool breeze that licked away the bits of sweat brought by the hot sun overhead. She could feel the ticklish teasing of the blades of grass all around, pulled hither and thither by the soft ministrations of that same cool breeze. She could faintly hear the call of cicadas, with their ceaseless humming drone, and the occasional chirp of a songbird here or there. Best of all, she could smell the mixture of heat and verdant, lively grass mixed with the faint aroma of fertile soil beneath the green.

Then, as the deepest chorus of her not-dream swelled to its acme, she could feel something else. It was faint at first, like the tickling of a strong gust of warm wind across the hairy nape of the neck. It grew gradually, pulling more and more of her sleeping mind to it as the sensation began to take an actual form and presence. It took on a sharpness as well, coalescing at a point somewhere on her face.

As it further formed itself, turning from that faint teasing to a pronounced presence, further sensation came along with it. First a heat, like a fever thriving just underneath the skin, then a throbbing, much like one’s heartbeat that can be felt everywhere when horribly frightened. These things grew stronger and stronger still, snaking up her face and into it as well, as it became more of a piercing feeling. Just as the sensation fully took form, becoming a stabbing and throbbing pain, one last addition took the woman over the edge and spilled her violently from her not-dream.

The smell of strong coffee and hickory hit her like a ton of bricks, sending a jolt clear through her skull and pulling her from the unseen savannah of her dreamscape.

 

Ђ

 

Weiss heard the soft shuffle and the nearly whispered moans coming from the sofa behind her long before the woman occupying it had the chance to wake. She had made many of the same sort of noises and whimpers for the last hour as she lay there, semi-sleeping and most likely dreaming something the heiress thought was not entirely pleasant. Occasionally a light _‘choo’_ would issue from the woman’s slumbering lips, sounding like some sort of tiny woodland creature, teasing one of those unnoticed and little-understood grins onto the heiress’ face.

She had set about to picking up the woman’s dropped papers, which she had resisted looking at for a time, in order to pass the mostly silent time. After this, the heiress had proceeded to set a pot of her favorite coffee to brew, utilizing the machine that had seen much and more use since her time at the university had begun. It still whirred and bubbled away in the background as she sat hunched over her desk.

When Ruby first stirred in a manner that made the heiress believe she might shortly wake, Weiss was busy peering through the papers that had been scattered all across the hallway. A few of them had flecks of blood here and there, from when the silver-eyed woman had tried to speak through her bloodied and broken nose. The heiress barely noticed, however, as she peered through the rather amazing and slightly unsettling contents.

She had come to find out the papers were her partner’s test results, from the make-up battery, and her wide-eyed stare only continued to grow as she read through them. It was amazing to quite a large degree, to say the least, as she discovered that her tutoring had not only taken root but had perhaps even begun to flower.

Page after page she flipped past, scanning her icy-blues across each and every little pencil mark. Here and there could still be found the occasional red mark, indicating a wrong answer, but the stark and stunning lack of their previously overwhelming presence was nearly humbling. It was as if someone had flipped a smart-switch beneath the woman’s raven tresses.

“Hnn…”

The sound tickled Weiss’ ear as she continued to run her disbelieving eyes over what was perhaps the most surprising paper of them all.

As Ruby’s silver eyes fluttered slowly open, her broken and reset nose taking in the aroma of her partner’s favorite coffee, the heiress had lost her situational awareness entirely. She held in her pallid hands the results of Ruby’s Business Economics retest, reading and rereading and reading it some more. She simply could not comprehend how such an amazing amount of progress could have come from only a week’s worth of private lessons, most of which were no more than three hours long at the most.

Ruby opened her bleary silvers and looked across the room as though she were quite drunk. The eyes were crossed and seeing double, giving the place the sort of illusory look of a funhouse or some like attraction.

Two coffee tables danced impishly on her left, coming in and out of focus as they swung around each other. The carpet beneath pitched and yawed like the waters of a stormy sea, mulling its ivory hues as though a blender were at work under the surface. She turned her sleep-groggy gaze to her right and saw a figure in a chair, long white something or other hanging across the back of the furnishing. It too twirled and swam in her woozy stare, looking at one moment to be two, then four, then one.

Weiss noticed none of this as she continued to read, now scanning over the comments jotted down by their muster-teacher. They were nothing short of unbelievable.

“Why’s ev’rysing sho wavy?” Ruby said, loud and drunkenly, startling Weiss quite harshly.

The snowy-haired woman jolted in her seat but did not toss the contents of her desk as she had earlier. Instead she whirled around to look at her cross-eyed and clearly confused partner, who sat up only halfway on the sofa where the heiress had laid her just over an hour past. The two met gazes for only a moment before Ruby’s eyes began to come back into focus, her face washing over with a deep scarlet hue.

“You feeling alright, now?” Weiss asked with no attempt to hide her concern. Unnoticed by her partner, there was also a hint of something very similar to budding respect deep in her tone.

Ruby’s eyes straightened up gradually, and fairly quickly now that she realized where she was, as she pulled herself fully to a sitting position. A sudden shoot of pain through her head had the woman throw her right hand against her forehead, gripping it as the pain slowly subsided to a bearable throb.

Weiss stood from her chair and crossed the room, heading past the couch toward her little kitchen nook. Ruby only sat on the couch, her face burning red and her head aching miserably, until the heiress returned shortly after.

“Here.” She said, offering a mug of steaming inkiness and something else in her other hand that the woman couldn’t quite make out.

Ruby took the offered mug with one shaky hand. Her silver eyes looked as though they might begin to spill tears yet again.

“These too. You look like you need them.”

Once more Weiss pushed the hand toward her partner that held something the woman couldn’t quite identify. Her vision had mostly come back into focus, but still the two tiny objects wouldn’t reveal themselves fully to her sight.

Ruby turned to the table and sat her mug on it. She then turned back and put her hands together, cupping them as she held them under the heiress’ offered hand. With a satisfied smile, small and thin, Weiss tilted her hand and dropped two little white ovals into Ruby’s cupped palms.

“My father’s company has been working on those for a while.” She mused, turning to head back for the kitchen nook as she continued, “Not quite sure what side-effects they have yet, but they work amazingly on a migraine.”

The heiress returned quickly, now holding her own mug of steaming libation, and took a seat beside her partner on the unoccupied part of the sofa. She took a sip from her mug before placing it on the table, looking as though she might lean back and relax when a sudden look of something forgotten washed over her face.

Weiss quickly leapt up, nearly hopped over to her desk, and grabbed the disheveled stack of papers she had been poring through. She walked back and took her seat once more, turning and offering the stack to her partner.

“Did you come here so early to show me these?” Weiss asked, almost shyly, as Ruby gingerly took the offered stack.

“Uh huh…” she replied as a few locks of her crimson-tipped hair fell across her left eye, hiding the silver jewel from view.

The heiress giggled warmly, immediately wondering why such a sound had left her lips, as she took hold of her mug again and leaned back into the sofa. She took on an entirely uncharacteristic air of relaxation as her partner first set the papers down, exchanging them for her own mug, and then proceeded to take the two little pills.

She washed them down with a mouthful of the steaming libation, ignoring the slight burn it gave her mouth. When the taste of the coffee first registered, a tangy bitterness mulled deliciously with the smoky hickory, it took all she had not to squeal with delight. The burn was entirely forgotten as she savored the delectable flavor, closing her eyes and letting it seep into her very consciousness.

“That’s quite an amazing improvement you made, Ruby.” The heiress said admiringly.

Ruby’s eyes popped open as the words hit her ear. She turned and leveled a dumbstruck stare at the heiress, looking like a doe caught in the headlights of some charging vehicle. Weiss saw this and, once more unlike herself, couldn’t stifle the giggle that slipped free.

“I’m sorry…” she said between titters, “I peeked while you were out cold. I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s alright…” Ruby muttered, averting her shocked stare, “I came early to show you, anyway…”

“I can see why.” Weiss stated matter-of-factly, tilting her head to rest against the back of the sofa, “So, did you still want to cash in your winnings tonight?”

Ruby looked at her partner once again, confused for only a moment before it dawned on her. She suddenly remembered why she’d come to see the heiress in the first place this eve, distracted as she was with the ridiculously early arrival of her test results. It also occurred to her, as she recalled such details, why the heiress would be dressed in such an unusually casual manner.

“Think any guys will be interested with my face all bandaged up?” the woman asked shyly, running the first two fingers of her left hand along the slightly rough surface of the bandage now decorating her nose.

“You’re plenty cute as it is, Ruby.” Weiss replied, wondering what had possibly possessed her to say such, “The bandages are only going to give you a look of clumsiness, making the cute all the more pronounced if anything.”

“What about my dress?” she persisted, feeling unusually embarrassed and self-conscious.

“Borrow one of my outfits.” The heiress answered quickly, “We’re nearly the same size and, in a case like this, I don’t suppose I mind lending you one. Besides, you won our little contest fair and square and I don’t like to be in debt.”

Weiss turned her head, still leaning against the back of the sofa, and locked her gaze with the raven-headed woman’s.

“Let’s go have some fun before I think better of it.” She said with a tone that sounded haughty and elitist, sporting a sly grin that said she liked the idea regardless.

 

Ю

 

Ruby shuffled nervously in her seat, feeling entirely uncomfortable in the unimaginably expensive clothes she now wore. The scenery passing her by in a blur, from her vantage point in the train that practically flew through the top of the city, went entirely unnoticed as she continued to stare at her reflection in the window across from her. There were buildings flying by behind the reflection, a blur of countless lights and shining glass edifices, but she didn’t see them. She saw only the garb that she knew, absolutely knew, she would never be able to afford for herself.

It was much like her own dress in make and style, composed of material outrageously more expensive and colored inversely to her own. It felt like silk against her skin, soft and supple and lacy as well. It breathed like the finely woven garments of Vacuo, where protection from the desert sun required airy garb.

She sported a coat of alabaster-white that buttoned up, though she had left it open, reaching only down to the top of her stomach. The tail flowed long behind her, giving it a look almost like a cape in back. Under this she wore an underdress of equally stark-white coloration with a petticoat reaching down to her mid-shin, this striped with five thin bands of black. Above this, and mostly covering the underdress, was a rigid bodice of mostly jet-black with deep scarlet floral patterns, which laced up in the back beneath the long-tailed coat.

“Stop being so nervous.” Weiss said serenely, “It’s not like you.”

Ruby came out of her thoughts at that, turning her gaze from the reflection in the window. She looked to her partner, who sat staring tranquilly through the same window, and felt herself calm down noticeably. She had suggested the idea in the first place, even used her winning of their little competition as a leverage to make it happen, and therefore wondered why she felt so odd and nervous over it.

She looked back to the window, noting her reflection once more as she ignored the passing scenery. The swelling on her face was all but gone, likely thanks to whatever the medicine was that the heiress had given her. Still, the bandages over her nose, looking like half of a dust-mask wrapped in white tape, gave her some small pause and nervous consideration.

She was sure, however, that this was not the only source; likely not even most of the source.

“Want to play some more while we wait?” Ruby offered with a shaky voice.

Weiss looked from the window to the door at the end of the train car, focusing on the square display at the top of it. It displayed the train’s route-map as a thin green line that snaked from destination to destination, these indicated as blinking blue dots. Along the line ran a red dot, this one solid rather than blinking, that had a timer displayed directly above it.

According to the display, they were still fifteen minutes out.

“Sure… Why not?” she replied, accepting, “Want to go first?”

“Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt, cannot be seen, cannot be felt.” Ruby began in answer, “It lies behind the stars and beneath the hills, ending life and killing laughter.”

The heiress turned her gaze back out the window, watching the passing scenery. The train was now descending back into the midst of the many tall buildings all around them, weaving through like a needle on its track of steel thread. She watched the shadows dance around between the dark spots where neither the light of the buildings nor that of the many streetlamps reached, finding her answer with little effort.

“Darkness.” She said absently, her lips curling slyly.

“Thankee, sai Weiss, you speak true.” Ruby responded with a giggle. The heiress shot her a quizzical look in response, a tad shocked by the phrase she’d never before heard in her life.

“Another book.” The raven-headed woman answered without having to be asked, “I read these myself about five years ago, at my sister’s advisement.”

“Oh?” Weiss hummed, more than a tad interested.

“Yeah, they were really good. All seven of them. So, got one for me?”

“A riddle, a riddle, as I suppose.” The heiress began, “A hundred eyes but never a nose.”

Ruby’s face lost all of its nervous appearance, replaced quickly with a very typical grin as she engrossed herself in their little game. Weiss watched and was more than a little pleased, finding that same heat coursing through her heart warmly and kindly. She noticed it but paid it as little heed as she could.

“A sieve!” she chirped, smiling a wide and toothy smile.

Weiss couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Correct.” She said, “Your turn.”

The face beneath those raven tresses, now returned to its usual brightness and jovial nature, scrunched up in a rather comical display of deep thought. After a few minutes of this, the woman pointed straight in the air in a cliché display of having an idea.

“Brothers and sisters have I none, but that man’s father is my father’s son. Who is that man?” she said with a foxlike grin.

“Well, supposing the riddler is a man…” Weiss began, now thoroughly enjoying herself as well, “The answer would be: ‘If that man’s father is my father’s son, then I am that man’s father and _he_ _is_ _my son_.’”

As she gave her answer, the heiress saw something that caught her entirely off guard. Ruby gave what was likely her brightest smile yet, looking like a small child that has just witnessed their older sibling in some titanic triumph, and proceeded to clap vigorously as she proclaimed the heiress to be correct.

Weiss couldn’t hold it in. She leaned forward, hands clapped around her stomach, and let loose a raucous bout of belly-laughter. Tears welled in her eyes as she laughter hearty and truly for the first time in gods-knew how long. Her face grew redder and redder as she went, joined none too long after by her partner as the two filled the train car with the sound of friendly laughter.

“Wow, Ruby…” Weiss spoke between hitched chuckles, “Just wow…”

As their laughter subsided, leaving a warm ache in both women’s stomachs, the train began to slow down as it pulled into its destination. The dust-powered engines hummed loud from the bulkhead, spinning faster as they fed power to the magnetic brakes beneath the cars. The train pitched just enough to be felt, lightly pushing its passengers forward as it slowed enough to dock.

The soft hum subsided and the massive machine pulled into its hub inside of yet another massive building. This one stretched an easy thirty stories above the hub, which itself sat almost twenty stories up. There was a soft hiss, audible from within the car, as the pressurized compartment released and readied for disembarking.

“Sounds like we’re here.” Weiss said, wiping the last tears of laughter from her eyes.

Her face positively glowed, as Ruby noticed when the heiress spoke, even though the smile had mostly faded from her lips.

The women stood and stepped to the automated ticket-reader, holding their little golden slips out as they passed through the doors. They stepped onto the concrete platform of their destination, the Oracle’s Presage nightclub, as the train’s automated conductor bid them a fond, if heavily accented, farewell.

_“Y’all have a fun time now, y’hear?!”_ it called out in a thick drawl, _“Y’come back real soon too, aye!”_

The two walked across the platform, their footwear clacking nearly in sync, as they made their way toward the lobby. It was much like the Olympus Heights, the heiress noted, as they approached the intentionally-aged ironwood doors of the nightclub.

They were nearly as tall as the hotel’s, stretching some eighteen meters in height at least. Their form was notably imposing in the dimly lit atmosphere of the club’s entryway. Heavy bands of some incredibly tough metal crossed the wooden surface, bolted with massive rivets. All along the exposed surface there were myriad posters of various shapes and sizes, detailing a number of events and occurrences to be found within.

“I really hope it’s more inviting inside than it looks…” Ruby muttered nervously, still sporting a rather excited, if slightly weaker, grin.

They passed the turnstiles and were nearly to the massive ironwood doors when it happened. Neither woman would forget the night for the rest of their lives for the very reason of what occurred just outside those imposing doors.

Ruby’s scroll came to life in one of the funny-shaped coat’s pockets, vibrating as it declared that a call was coming in. She stopped, the heiress halting at almost the same moment, and began to dig through the five pockets on her right side, trying to find which one she’d stuffed the device in. When she finally found it, she thumbed it open and placed the device to her ear, not bothering for a moment to check who was calling.

Weiss noted, somewhat admiringly, just how carefree her partner could be. She thought on this for only a moment, however, as she was dragged from the musing by the gradually darkening expression of the woman’s face.

“Hello?” Ruby had answered cheerily.

The heiress couldn’t make out what was said over the din of the small crowd passing by them, leaving her to only guess at the rest of the conversation.

“Yes, this is Ruby Rose.” The woman went on, “Uh huh… Yeah, _that_ Ruby Rose. What about my sister?”

There was silence from the woman for a few moments, perhaps as much as a minute, as whoever was on the other line continued to speak. Weiss’ concern began to mount as the expression on her partner’s face changed; first from happy and carefree to a look of studious concentration, then further devolving into a look of stunned disbelief before melting into a sheer gawk of something like terror.

“No…” Ruby muttered as the voice on the other line went on, unheard to the now deeply concerned heiress.

Ruby fell silent again, for another few moments, as the din shuffling past the two continued to drown her caller out from the heiress’ ear.

“That’s not possible…” she muttered again, weaker and now sounding as though she were straining against a terribly sore throat.

“ _You’re lying!_ ” she shouted suddenly, giving Weiss a terrible start with the astonishing volume and high pitch, “ _You’re full of shit!_ ”

This time, Weiss could actually make out the tiniest bit of what the other party was saying. The silence that had descended over the lobby, after the woman’s outburst, was enough to allow her to make out the last bit before Ruby lost it entirely.

“ _I wish it were a lie, Miss Rose…_ ” the caller said morosely.

Ruby collapsed to her knees, her eyes wide and animal-like with the flurry of emotions now running through her. She dropped the scroll from her limp and listless hand as she fell. The device landed on its end and slid shut, ending the call as its owner hunched over. Her eyes welled up quickly with tears that wasted no time in breaking through, spilling in thick streams of heat down her reddening cheeks.

As Weiss closed in, not knowing _what_ she intended to do, Ruby jerked her head back violently and screamed louder than she ever had in her life at the ceiling above. It sounded as though she were dying.


	6. Thus, Kindly, I Scatter - Part 1: Grimm Badlands

Chapter 6

Thus, Kindly, I Scatter

Part 1

Grimm Badlands

 

Ψ

 

The sun, that horrid ball of incessant heat and insistent brightness, seemed as though it were permanently affixed at the apex of its ascent. It sat at the top of its astral throne, high and shining with glorious magnificence and fiendish heat, as it had since the third hour of the morning. Its rays poured constant and irrefutable as they bathed the land below, casting long shadows where it was blocked by jagged outcroppings of shale and granite, and lit the badlands with something that could only be described as an ungodly and oppressive brightness and temperature.

The wind came by in wretched puffs that were eerily similar in strength to an elderly man, likely in his last few hours of life, attempting to blow out a candle. It danced weakly and softly across the wasted hardpan, picking up and twirling the occasional dust devil, failing to exert even the slightest hint of cooling or relief. It served only to carry along the heat of the glowing star above, acting more akin to a tease than anything else.

Here and there and all around were the massive outcrops of granite and shale, looking like gargantuan claws poking from the earth and reaching toward the sky. By relative comparison to one another, some were small and formed little more than stunted overhangs while others were monolithic, to the point that an entire city could be built beneath with room to spare, and reached out into grand vistas that overlooked the barren hardpan beneath. All were gargantuan in comparison to the two walking through the badlands. The massive features were baked thoroughly in the immutable sun and gave off the telltale wavers of heated air if one looked at them from just the right angle.

“See any sign of him?” a woman asked with an air of absolute boredom, her true anxiety and anticipation hidden beneath her stoic façade. Her eyes, hidden behind a funny looking pair of black goggles, scanned the wasteland beneath her vantage point atop one of the larger outcrops. Her void-black hair, nearly half as long as she was tall, had begun to billow weakly behind her in one of the pathetic breezes that blew through.

“Slippery snake…” muttered the woman next to her, more to herself than in reply. This one had a cattleman’s hat atop her bright golden tresses, flat-crowned and wide-brimmed and colored the dark brown of deeply tanned leather. Her lavender eyes, shielded from the oppressive sun above by her right hand and hat, scanned the wasteland scenery just as the other woman.

They had spent the better portion of the last hour scaling the rocky rear slope of the outcrop, making frightfully little progress for their effort due to the harsh and uncompromising heat. Despite their agile and strong frames, despite their expert conditioning and training, the badlands of western Vacuo seemed hell-bent on denying them progress at every turn.

Once they’d managed to achieve their vantage, and had begun scanning the direction they were sure their target had gone, the effects of their surroundings had begun to take a particularly heavy toll.

“This damn heat…” cursed the black-haired woman, peeling the bandanna from the top of her head. With a sigh of satisfaction, two distinctly feline ears, nestled atop her head in her silky locks, puffed out and twitched freely and happily. The breeze that picked up again, weakly as ever, felt quite nice to the little appendages.

“Your ears’ll burn before long…” observed the other, still scanning the distance with her right hand over her eyes. The same weak breeze had now picked up and begun to play with her vibrant flaxen hair, tossing and toying with the nearly six feet of it.

In almost perfect unison, both pawed the sweat from their brow and turned to look at each other.

“He’s human like us, so he can’t last long in this heat.” The blonde one said, sounding unsure of herself but feigning confidence well all the same.

“He’ll probably have to make a midday camp before long…” agreed the other, her feline ears twisting and turning in the breeze.

The one in the flat-crowned cattleman’s hat turned back to look over their vantage once more. She squinted her eyes hard against the bright glare of the sun, not bothering to shield them this time, and tried to make out something that quickly caught her gaze. It was likely a mirage for all she knew, but something about it seemed distinctly out of place.

“See something?” her partner asked.

The woman didn’t answer, just stood there and continued to stare. She was now watching for any sign of movement, though she knew her eyes could scarce be trusted in a place such as this where distance was nearly as imperceptible as time.

“That overhang, four outcrops off?” the partner asked again.

“You see it too?”

“Maybe.”

Both stood and stared in shared silence for a time. The sun beat down continuously while they watched, bringing continuous beads of sweat to their skin. Both had already picked up a fairly decent tan, now two months into their arid pursuit, and the sweat poured in streams almost constantly. It was the only thing that made that useless, pathetically weak breeze worth anything; it lapped up the sweat and cooled them off noticeably when it managed to pick up just a tad above a puff.

“Let’s go.” The void-haired woman said suddenly, turning toward the rear of the outcrop and walking off.

“Saw the glint too, huh?” the blonde asked almost giddily, stepping lively to catch up to her stoic companion.

“He knows we saw it, I’m sure.” The partner went on, placing and rewrapping the bandanna atop her head and ears.

“Blazing Sol and Nightshade are on his ass.” The blonde proclaimed proudly, “You _know_ he’s sure we’re seeing every move he makes.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself… _Sol_ …” the void-haired one said with a very quiet, all but stifled giggle.

“Oh, I’m fine right where I am.” Sol responded, reaching out and giving her partner a playful pinch on her rump.

The woman jumped only a tad, surprised by the sudden feeling, but did nothing more. She’d been around the boisterous, playful, sarcastic and undeniably amicable blonde for some years now. In that time, she’d come to expect these certain things from her partner, not all of which were unwelcome, and had grown accustomed to not squeaking at every little pinch or poke.

“Cool down before the heat gets you.” Nightshade responded flatly, hiding the blush of her cheeks and voice expertly.

They descended the outcrop in relatively decent time, turning to circle around it the moment their feet left the shale claw and returned to the hardpan of the Vacuan badland. It took them another half-hour to reach the forward slant of the rocky feature, where the outcrop threw a monumental shadow over the land it shielded from the sun above.

By this time, both were sweating profusely and beyond given for breath. They took shelter under the massive edifice, in the coolest part where the shade was almost eternal, and reluctantly gave up their pursuit for a while.

Both took cross-legged seats on the dusty ground, huddling toward the hard rock of the back wall to catch their breath and let the sweat dry from their pulsing skin. Here, beneath the outcrop in the nigh-eternal shade, the wind that had felt so very weak was amplified and further pronounced, carrying a cooler touch with its stronger gust.

“Jeez…” Sol sighed, “That feels fricken nice…”

“Mmhm…” Nightshade moaned her concurrence, leaning her head against the cool rock wall.

Sol shuffled around as they sat there, reaching into the right breast-pocket of the oddly shaped duster she sported. She quickly produced a small device that looked similar to a tiny hipflask with some sort of glass and metal antenna protruding from the top. She placed the tip of the antenna to her lips, pushing a recessed button on the side of the flask-like body and sucking hard as it whirred to life.

“Can’t go anywhere without that thing, can you?” her partner prodded, sounding just a tad annoyed.

Sol pulled the antenna from her lips and blew a thick cloud of white into the dry air. Its sweet and familiar scent immediately found her partner’s nose, delighting both women as the smell of cotton candy and strawberries permeated them.

“It’s just water and sugar, Blake.” Sol responded with a thin smile, looking cheeky and impish beneath her cattleman’s hat.

“I thought we were sticking with the aliases…”

Sol placed the device back in the pocket she’d taken it from and turned her gaze to her partner’s be-goggled face. She flashed a quick and sharp grin, full of teasing slyness and coy sarcasm.

“I’d much rather hear my _real_ name from your lips.” Sol said with a wink, “Besides, we’re gods-know how many miles into this stretch of flippin nothing. I don’t think it’ll do any harm not to call each other by our handles.”

“Always the reckless one, eh Yang?” Blake sighed in halfhearted agreement.

“You know it!” Yang agreed, rising from her cross-legged seat and dusting off her rear, “We better get moving, though. No telling where that bastard’ll get off to if we loiter around in the shade.”

Blake stood as well, the silky wrap around her torso fluttering in the stronger breeze beneath the outcrop. She dusted herself off, shaking her posterior like a cat trying to rid itself of a recent bath, before following her partner.

Both women exited the shade of the outcrop and reentered the oppressive heat of the badland sun. Their booted feet kicked up puffs of fine dust with each footfall on the hardpan as they walked on after their prey. Far off to the north, on their right as they headed ever further west, the few scraggly pines that dotted a pathetic excuse for a mountain range, which was closer kin to a rocky series of hills, swayed in a strong breeze that blew ahead of an approaching cloud.

The two walked for some time, perhaps another three hours, taking greedily small sips of their water supply every now and again, before the titanic cloud blowing in caught their attention.

Its grey bulk was beyond enormous, covering the northern horizon and blotting out the sun entirely as it crossed the badlands beneath. It simply shouted the coming of a monsoon or something of the like as it barreled toward them, dragging its misshapen and bulky shadow beneath it like a blanket of shade. The scent of heat-lightning and rain that would do no good was overpowering as it closed in.

When the cloud came fully overhead, almost seeming to stop and park above the traveling duo, the women were passing through a particularly crowded bunch of the rocky formations that covered the land. The shadows were now all-consuming and irregular in their shading, looking like a progressive step from grey to black to blacker and then to pitch darkness, as the two pressed on.

They stuck to the exposed hardpan as much as possible, avoiding the areas where the outcrops hung overhead, and kept their eyes scanning the way ahead. Any sign of their prey, any slight hint of their mark’s passage, simply could not afford to be missed. So they watched, closely, and pressed further and further beneath the ominous cloud and through the field of outcroppings.

Blake stopped suddenly, her breath hitching in her teeth with a muted hiss. Yang was short to follow, hearing the sound and instinctively halting as well.

“See something good?” Yang teased quietly, pushing her coat back and revealing an odd pair of cesti that hung menacingly from her shapely hips.

Blake only shushed her in reply before she thumbed one of the switches on her odd goggles. The lenses set into the eyeholes whirred and clicked mutedly, spinning away and replacing the polarized brown with an ivory-colored set. They glowed queerly as the woman peered into the distance through them, slowly undoing the bandanna that covered her ears. The fuzzy things popped up and began to twitch back and forth, feeling the air and listening for any slight rustle or easily unheard whisper.

“Four big ones and two pups on our rear.” Blake mumbled quickly, still looking ahead through her odd headgear, “Got this?”

“You bet that sweet ass!” Yang replied excitedly, turning and walking back the way they’d come from.

She threw the coat open wide and slipped her fingers into the bulk of the cesti, gripping the cold steel handles tight in her lightly sweating palms. She yanked them from their resting place on her hip with a dry click and the ordinary looking things came quickly and fiercely to life.

They covered her knuckles and the top of her hands in the blink of an eye, blued metal plates shifting out in sequence from the thick bulk of the front. Each snapped into place with another dry click as the next ran over top until they covered the woman from knuckle to the middle of her forearm. When the last was settled, the whole of both weapons lit up with a fierce golden glow and a number of little slots opened up on the sleek surface.

Yang only managed to load the left cestus when the first Grimm leapt from behind a twelve-foot-tall boulder. Its mouth gaped wide and its many fangs dripped with hungry drool as it charged her.

“Wrong choice.” She said flatly, twisting on her left heel and thrusting her right fist forward. The cestus made contact wonderfully, slogging the critter’s head square on the nose and sending it flying before Yang could even get a good look at it.

Two more rounded from behind the same boulder on her left, exercising a hint of extra caution after witnessing their fellow get tossed so effortlessly. After them, one more adult crested the top of a slanted boulder just ahead of her, licking its chops and slavering viciously.

They looked like a rabid cross between a jackal and something similar to a puma, standing nearly five feet at the withers. They were likely around seven feet from buttock to snout, thin and lanky and looking half-starved, with an arrow shaped head full of deadly, pointed fangs. Two long slender ears stood almost an entire foot atop their heads, pointed straight at the sky like a declaration that something fascinating could be seen there. Their paws were wide and powerful looking, sporting four viciously curved talons and a dagger-like dewclaw on each.

Yang recognized the creatures from her studies at Beacon, which now felt ages behind her, as Anubi. They were a particularly nasty breed of Grimm, left alone to fester and seethe in their solitude far from the places mankind tended to reside. They were known to be cunning and to possess a love of ambush, often avoiding all but the most vulnerable of their scarce prey. Time apart from man, left to watch from the shadows, had made them sly and patient predators; a deadly mix for all but the most prepared.

The headstrong woman and her stoic companion were exactly that, ready and willing to send the creatures back to whatever pit their kind came from.

“I got a bead on him!” Blake shouted, her voice betraying her sudden wash of excitement.

Yang heard this, both the statement and the tone, and couldn’t stop the smirk that cut across her lips. She pulled the right cestus to herself, dropping a number of red oblong pellets into the exposed holes before striking the raised pad on the rear. All the holes closed tight at once and both began to glow even brighter, turning from the vibrant golden hue to a screaming red.

“Get a head start, Blake dear!” Yang shouted back, “I’ll be right behind ya!”

Her partner wasted no time, bolting off as Yang had bid while the wild-eyed woman lunged in the opposite direction.

She came upon the first of her chosen targets, pushing hard from the ground when she was little more than a meter from the Anubi atop the slanted boulder. It hunkered down and bore its fangs menacingly at her, daring the woman to put her hands anywhere near it.

“Hope you’re hungry, you ugly shit!” Yang roared as she came upon it, thrusting her fist out with terrible force.

The critter lunged upward just before the contact, opening its maw wider in hopes to chomp the woman’s arm off. It failed, none too surprisingly, as she instead thrust the cestus hard into its snout. The delicate bones beneath were crushed and shattered at once, thrown into its skull like shot with the force of the blow.

Yang landed astride the boulder and the creature plummeted to the ground before her. It landed limp and lifeless, immediately turning to ash.

The woman wasted not a moment, spinning gracefully on the ball of her right foot and launching into another charge. Her targets this time were both of the Anubi that had rounded the boulder from whence the first came. They snarled and snapped like their fallen comrade, daring her approach with their slobbering rows of knifelike fangs. She, of course, obliged quite effectively.

With a right uppercut, Yang first ducked under then crushed the left Anubi’s windpipe, shattering the critter’s neck and tossing it a good many feet into the air. In the blink of an eye, she spun and launched a left straight-jab into the other’s side. When she felt the cestus make contact, she squeezed the mechanism inside the glove of the weapon and brought it terribly to life.

The ribs of the last adult Anubi gave way, shattering under the force of her punch alone before the cestus belched a blast of explosive-aspected dust into the point of impact. In only a moment, a clean and sizzling hole, large enough to toss a melon through, was left where there had once been pitch black fur and flesh and bone.

The creature tottered a half step forward and collapsed soundlessly to the dusty earth, beginning its own ash-out no sooner than it came to a halt.

“Well… That was fun!” the woman sighed happily, removing the cesti and placing them back on their rests beneath her coat.

She turned to spot her partner, who had made some good headway while she busied herself with their assailants, and ran off after the woman. The clouds above opened up almost the moment she kicked into a run, releasing a torrential downpour that the hardpan greedily consumed.

 

Ψ

 

Night fell quickly and unnoticed while the two continued through the badlands, chasing madly after their prey with the torrential downpour serving well to cool their heated flesh. They ran and ran, stopping only occasionally to rest their aching muscles before bolting off once more. They kept this up for a good four hours more before the fatigue overtook them entirely, forcing the two to seek shelter beneath a particularly large claw of shale.

The sun, hidden behind the equally oppressive mass of clouds above, had descended below the horizon by the time they sought their shelter. It had exited its astral throne and stolen away to press on over other parts of Remnant, circling as it ever did to come up for another day of baking the eternally bleak badlands.

The rain continued to pour as they ducked into the shadow of the outcrop and the hardpan continued to greedily suck it up almost as soon as it fell. The wind had picked up into a furious roar as well, turning the rain sideways and away from the opening the duo fled under.

“That came out of nowhere…” Blake mused, walking along into the depths of their chosen shelter.

“Freezing alive in badland rain or baking alive in badland sun. So hard to choose, huh?” Yang teased.

The two waltzed into the depths beneath the outcrop, passing over a good two or three-hundred meters before coming to the back wall. Here they found a small semicircle formed by large chunks of shale that had fallen free from the bulk above over the ages. The stones made somewhat of a satisfying windbreaker against the harsh gale the torrent outside had brought with it.

Yang, ever the more impulsive of the two, was the first to give in to her screaming thighs, plopping her shapely buttocks onto the cool dust of the hardpan floor. She kicked her legs straight out and leaned against a corner formed between one of the larger shale chunks and the back wall of the outcrop, pulling her hair out from behind herself and placing the tangled bulk on her lap.

“Vale’s conditioner market is gonna make a killing off of me when we get back…” she mused quietly, trying to brush some of the worst tangles out with her fingers.

Blake walked off to explore their chosen campground, thumbing the switch on her goggles again and looking about. The mechanism around them whirred to life once again, clicking three times as it cycled over to a glowing set of green lenses. These shined even brighter once they settled into place, amplifying the faunus’ already strong night-vision.

She looked around the mostly empty vastness beneath the shale claw, scanning their surroundings for what her partner always seemed to forget when making camp for the night. Her golden eyes quickly honed in on what she sought, finding a few stunted and twisted Joshua trees near the edge of the outcrop some thirty meters off.

While Yang continued to brush at her tangled locks, cursing every now and again when she yanked painfully on a tight knot, the faunus stepped quickly toward the flora. She headed cattycorner to the direction they’d come from, moving toward the north-eastern side of the outcrop, her boots puffing clouds of loose earth into the ever more humid air.

The stunted trees, more closely resembling shrubs that had long been starved for water, populated a fair sized patch of surprisingly softer ground. Their persistent roots had, someway or another, managed to find purchase in a spot where the hardpan was thinner and not so complete in its presence.

When she reached them, Blake realized, with no small relief, that the things were long dead and dry as sun-bleached bones despite the present torrent. She set about quickly to her task, reaching beneath the tail of black silk that hung over her right shoulder and pulling her weapon free of its resting place.

What she drew from the scabbard at the small of her back looked queerly like a long-barreled revolver, sporting a sickly curved crescent-blade on the underside of its two-foot-long barrel. The blade was thin as paper at its edge, widening triangularly toward the base where it was affixed to the firearm. It shined with its own light it seemed, gleaming a testament to its own sharpness. She lifted it and swung with four quick, delicate motions.

The tree she’d chosen fell quickly to pieces, sliced nicely and cleanly at each point the blade had made even the briefest of contact. With a satisfied huff, she holstered the odd weapon and gathered her spoils, returning to her partner shortly after.

“Aww, look at you, Blake!” Yang cheered playfully, “Always so reliable you are, Miss Kitty!”

“You know I hate it when you call me that.” The woman replied wearily as she began to set four pieces of the dried Joshua tree in the shape of a tent.

“I know you _love_ to hate it, Blake dear.” Yang went on while her partner ringed the tent with smaller slivers of the tree.

Blake ignored her and finished the dressing of their campfire, stuffing the space within the tent with the smallest bits of the tree’s remnants. She then dusted her hands off and started to reach into one of her pockets, jumping slightly when she felt Yang’s hot hand on her forearm’s cool flesh.

“I got this.” The woman said calmly, her lavenders affixed to the faunus’ goggled eyes.

Blake felt an unusually powerful blush tease at her cheeks as the blonde’s hand withdrew.

She watched her partner reach into her dark brown duster, rifling through the same pocket she kept her little smoking device in. The woman quickly found what she sought and brought out two little bits of metal. Blake almost wanted to chuckle. She watched the woman lean in toward the nicely dressed tent of kindling, holding the two metal bits against each other.

“Spark a dark, where’s my sire?” the blonde began, rubbing the pieces slowly together in her quirky ritual, “Will I lay me? Will I stay me?”

She pulled them apart and cocked the lighter-colored piece behind the darker. With a swift and practiced motion, she struck the two together and sent a shower of bright sparks onto the campfire-to-be.

“Bless this camp with fire!” she shouted triumphantly as the kindling did indeed blaze to life, lighting the rocky semicircle beneath the outcrop with warmth and brilliance.

“That was a cute little rhyme.” Blake mused, pulling the goggles from her head. She had lifted them from her eyes as soon as her partner began her little ritual, striking her old-fashioned flint and steel to breathe life into the kindling. She joined her partner’s seat against the back wall, resting the goggles in her lap under her folded hands, and nestled close to the boisterous woman.

“Have I ever told you about my sister?” Yang began, ignoring her partner’s comment altogether.

“Only about a thousand times by now…” the faunus mused warmly, leaning her head against the crook of the blonde’s left shoulder.

The fire sputtered and crackled warmly while the torrent raged outside their shelter, sounding far and away with its unabated ferocity. Both women’s eyes, lavender and gold, danced beautifully in the orange and red hues thrown off from the blazing bed of embers.

Yang shifted slightly, pushing her partner’s head back and slipping her arms, left first, from her long duster. After pulling both free, she thrust her hips upward and yanked the long coat from beneath herself, throwing her left arm around her partner in the same fluid motion and tossing the thick leather over both of them.

She could’ve sworn she felt Blake purring, if only just a tad, in the light of the fire that warmed them both beneath the coat.

“I turned her into a serious bookworm when we were little.” Yang went on, picking up her previous statement, “Before she learned how to read, when our mother was still alive, I used to read all kinds of books to her. Kiddy-books at first, of course, but we moved on to other things as we got older. I went from reading her the children’s classics, like Charlotte’s Web and Where the Wild Things Are, to reading from poetry books and things like Where the Sidewalk Ends.”

Blake cocked her head up from its resting place in the crook of her partner’s shoulder, shifting her gaze to watch the woman’s bright lavender eyes dance enchantingly in the flame of the campfire. They were now thoroughly washed over with a look of nostalgia and memory, clearly seeing not the fire before them but the days spent reading with her sister in their house so long and far away.

The faunus’ heart throbbed with heat and admiration. She watched and listened raptly.

“When I first started at Beacon, and she had just moved on to her junior year of high school, I introduced her to one of my favorite authors.” Yang went on, completely engrossed in her ruminations, “Dad was so pissed at first, ‘cause he knew the man’s works too and only remembered the worst of them, but I talked him down once I told him which ones I’d given her. It started off with my favorites at the time, Dark House and The Stand, and she read them over and over while I was going through classes at Beacon.

“Anyway, about five years ago, I gave her what’s probably my favorite set of books after she said they sounded interesting. There’s seven in all, and she blew through them in just a couple months. Told me she loved them, too, which made me pretty ecstatic…”

“The Dark Tower?” Blake interjected dreamily, still watching her partner’s glowing visage. The smile that crept over Yang’s face in the next instant, proud and loving and kind, set the faunus’ heart to racing even hotter and quicker.

“Yep.” She answered flatly, “The very same place I got that ‘ _cute little rhyme_ ’ you heard earlier.”

Blake smiled at that before twisting herself into more of a lying position than a sitting one as she made herself more comfortable. The blonde made quite the welcoming cuddler as she observed for the umpteenth time.

“I liked them too.” Blake said after a sleepy yawn, “Kind of funny, when you think about the first book, that we’re chasing a dangerous mystery-man through this barren stretch of wasteland, huh?”

Yang yawned empathetically along with her partner, wrapping her arm tighter around her and settling herself further against the back wall of their shelter. The fire blazed powerful and warmly while they watched, both now lying more than sitting. It popped every now and again when the flames licked a spot of the wood that still greedily held onto the teeniest bit of water. Sparks would spurt beautifully into the darkness and be carried up on the rising heat, giving a show that made both begin to feel more than a little amorous.

“Think we’ll really catch him?” Blake whispered, with just the barest hint of moroseness in her sleepy, stoic voice.

“We will, Miss Kitty.” Yang answered, sweet and teasing, and began to run her fingers through the faunus’ silky black tresses, “Can’t let the last three years go completely to waste, can we?”

Blake continued to stare into the fire, not caring that her night-vision would be ruined for the rest of the evening, as the sensation of her partner’s fingers running through her hair began to make her very skull tingle. Yet, even through the comforting and relaxing sensation, tears began to sting at her golden eyes while she watched the dancing embers and felt those soft caresses.

“We’ll get him back for Adam.” Yang said suddenly, her voice atypically serious and grave, “ _I will_ make him pay for hurting you, Blake.”

It was only one, only one thin and nearly imperceptible stream of salty heat, that ran down the woman’s cheek at those words. She could clearly remember finding the man, a fellow faunus she had once cared deeply for, torn apart and long dead in the wake of their prey. She could still remember the revolting sight and the terrible feeling of loss that quickly came with it, oppressive and overpowering in the injury it left her.

She was pulled out of the memory with sudden motion when she felt herself rise, pushed up and away by her partner. Her golden eyes blinked a few times, confused and perhaps a tad dazed as well by the sudden stirring, before she realized what the soft and warm sensation was that now pressed firmly to her lips.

She blinked thrice more, rapidly and alarmed. She regarded the lightly shut lids of her partner’s eyes, feeling the heat from the woman as she pressed against her. Holding her tight and gently, the blonde pushed their lips together with comforting force. The faunus relaxed and the alarm left her, releasing the terrible memory from her mind’s eye. She returned the embrace shortly after, pushing with her own lips to return the kiss, joining her partner, her lover, in this shared expression of comfort and care.

It felt like only moments to the two in their passionately silent palaver, hearts racing like mad drums beneath their bosoms, but lack of air came quickly and harshly to remind them that time was passing quicker than they could tell. Reluctantly, both pulled away from the embrace and looked at one another. Blake’s Golden eyes were wary and reluctant, showcasing her reservation over letting her feelings run wild in this place. Yang’s met them with stone resolve and loving conviction, attesting to her solid determination.

“We _will_ get him, Blake.” She said, her eyes practically afire with the resolve in her heart, “We _will_ catch him and we _will_ make him pay for what he’s done. I swear it.”

Blake said nothing in reply, only threw herself onto the blonde. Both crashed to the dusty ground. She planted a few more furious kisses, starting on the blonde’s cheeks and working back to her full lips. The two cuddled up against the back wall and let their embrace carry them on into the night. The soft whispers and whimpers that followed were mostly drowned out by the storm that raged continually outside and the crackle of the campfire.

When sleep finally found them, even sweatier and wholly exhausted, it was kind and gentle as it took them into its embrace.

 

Ψ

 

Morning came to the badlands at the far reaches of Vacuo, near the very end of the known lands of Remnant, and the sun climbed lazily over the eastern horizon. Its ascent was slow and the star had only managed to cast out the first of its glowing tendrils when the two huntresses began their march across the dusty hardpan once more. Their footfalls landed determinedly on the still-dark ground, kicking up puffs of loose dirt that was little more than sand while they pushed through the early-morning darkness.

They had both awoken only a short while earlier, while the sun still lay below the horizon. Their rise was greeted with aches and pains and growling stomachs, but the two had bravely collected their camp, dressed themselves and set out. There would be no stopping for true rest until they found him, the man in the mask, and both knew and abided by this mutual vow.

The wind had picked up and begun to carry along slightly stronger than the previous day by this point. It carried no scent save the dryness of the badlands, but already it promised to keep them cooler through the day’s heat than it last had; a welcome thing to be sure. They pressed on in the dark, scanning and watching for any sign of their quarry.

“See any sign of him yet?” Yang asked.

“Nothing.” Blake replied swiftly, almost curtly. Her golden eyes scanned the way ahead through the polarized lenses of her odd goggles, but they could find nothing worth noting. Only the last direction they’d caught him fleeing served to guide them.

They pushed on through the morning and into the day, keeping their pace at an even tempo. By the time the sun had fully risen, spreading both its brilliant light and its oppressive heat, they were sure they’d managed to put at least ten more miles behind them. It felt good, to know they were making decent progress, but the fatigue was once again starting to crop up. It mixed with the hunger in their growling stomachs until neither felt they could keep up their swift march, pushing the women to look for a place to make an early mid-camp.

When they began to look for a suitable spot, they had crossed into the stretch of the badlands that was made up predominately of tall mesas and vast valleys. The ochre giants rose an easy mile into the sky and stretched perhaps twice that from one end to the other on their flat tops. The bluffs were sharp and immediate in their descent, broken off into nearly perfect flat faces. At the foot of these giants ran the remains of what had once surely been a truly titanic river, now little more than a thin series of weak tributaries that joined into a stream that barely constituted an overly swelled creek.

There was a little more brush and vegetation as they pushed on, looking for a decent spot to halt and rest along the tiny river’s banks. They passed by a small forest of cacti and a scraggly bunch of Joshua trees, the latter of which somehow managed to look less lively than the ones used for their campfire the previous night. It was here that they decided to rest, pitching themselves down at the calmly babbling edge of the thin river.

Yang sat down on her knees by the water’s edge, leaning down and splashing her face greedily with the cool liquid. It felt amazing to her heated skin, still pulsing after the previous night’s parley with her partner and even more so with the day’s gradually building heat. Blake was about to join her when a rustle from a nearby thicket of witch grass caught her ear, pulling the faunus’ gaze in the direction of the disturbance quite immediately.

She spotted a particularly portly hare sauntering from the brush, likely just as recently awoken as they themselves, that had clearly not yet picked up their scent. Its nose twitched cautiously at the air, whose breeze had receded to little more than a puff once more, and its eyes flicked to and fro. The long ears atop its fluffy head turned back and forth, perhaps listening for any possible predators whilst it began whatever morning routine hares are inclined toward.

It heard nothing when the raven-headed woman drew her weapon, the odd revolver with the crescent blade under its barrel, and fired off a shot that sounded like dry thunder and echoed like the voice of God. Her shot landed true, ending the critter mercifully quick. The entirety of the head disappeared from its fluffy shoulders in an instant, nearly evaporated with hardly a trace of gore.

A splash, loud and sudden, echoed from behind the raven-headed faunus.

“Holy shit!” Yang shouted, pulling herself up from where she’d leapt into the river in her surprise, “You could at least warn me when you’re going to do that, Blake!”

“Didn’t want to scare our breakfast away.” The stoic faunus replied, holstering her weapon and heading for her kill.

The blonde, now thoroughly soaked and more than a tad irritated, stomped her way out from the ankle-deep water she’d sprawled into. Her duster felt thrice its actual weight with the disturbing amount of water it now held after her tumble. She pulled it off with a grunt of effort and tossed it onto a nearby flat rock that was oddly shaped like a waving hand, perhaps the size of a king mattress.

It landed with a wet plop and the woman set about removing the rest of her soaked clothes, starting with the shirt that amounted to little more than a black tube of something like nylon. It took more effort than she had wanted to give, coming free only after she yanked hard enough to send her breasts to bouncing when they popped out of it. This, too, she tossed on the waving hand of a rock, hoping it would dry before the sun began to burn her exposed flesh.

“Next time you startle me enough to fall in a river, or a pool, or any other body of water like that…” she mused angrily, pulling at her jackboots with blatant irritation, “I’m dragging you in with me, ya hear?!”

Blake tried to stifle her laugh, tried very hard at that, but couldn’t suppress the very warm giggle that tittered from her heart. It was a bit disturbing, perhaps, to see a woman in the middle of skinning and cleaning a fresh kill when she suddenly fell into a bout of giggles. Yang paid it no mind. She simply dumped the water from her tall boots and tossed them onto the stone with the rest of her clothes.

“I’ll try to remember to warn you next time.” Blake conceded at last, now parting the critter for easier cooking, “But in the meantime, Yang… Would you mind building us a fire?”

The blonde looked up at her partner, eyes glimmering coyly in the sunlight as her fingers pawed at the buttons of her miniskirt, and felt like saying something snarky in reply. She didn’t in the end, instead settling on silently tossing the skirt with the rest of her soaked belongings. She only prayed the device she used in her spare time, in lieu of the nasty tobacco neither woman cared for, had not gotten wet enough to be rendered useless.

Now nude as the day she was born, and in the middle of the badland sun and heat no less, she waltzed over to her partner with more than a little irritation in her step.

“Where’s the bowie?” she asked.

“Did you check your pockets?” Blake replied with a thin smile.

Yang leveled a very exasperated and nearly furious gaze at the woman, in whose hand the very knife she had requested was presently held, before the cute little snippet won out. Her face brightened and the rising ire dissipated entirely as a strong gust of laughter broke free from her lungs, rattling her entire body with its ferocity.

“Just hand it over, Miss Kitty.” She said after the laughter mostly ran its course, pawing at the tears that had formed in the corners of her eyes.

Blake gave a wan smile in return, tilting her gaze up to the brazenly nude woman, and offered the knife, handle-first.

“You look good like that, Yang.” She mused when the woman took it, ignoring the mess left from her partner’s task, “It really suits your brazen personality.”

“You just like getting to see me in broad daylight!” the blonde replied before making for the river to wash the knife off, swaying her hips purposefully with each step.

Blake allowed her eyes to rest on this spectacle for a moment longer than prudence might have dictated, averting her gaze only once she was satisfied with her small treat.

Once Yang had finished cleaning the tool, she made her way to one of the deader-looking Joshua trees and hacked enough off of it to make a useful fire with. She gathered this into a pile and placed the knife atop it before returning to her partner, arms full of nigh-entirely dry wood with which to cook. While she had been about this, Blake had hastily set up a very rudimentary grill. She had found herself two decently sized and rounded rocks, placing them about two feet from each other, and a flat hunk of shale to set over them.

The blonde walked over and dropped the pile of wood beside the little makeshift grill, plopping herself down on the sandy ground as soon as the last piece came to a rest. She pulled her heels close in a cross-legged stance, trying to guard her nethers from the ground. She then tossed a longing gaze at the splayed out hodgepodge of her clothes while she waited, still too wet for her tastes as they continued to dry on the hand-shaped rock some twelve feet away.

“I hope you don’t burn.” Blake mused while setting the last piece of wood under her grill.

“Eh, I wanted to even out my tan anyway.” Yang replied with a cheeky smirk.

“The wood’s all set up. Want to do your thing?”

Yang turned her gaze back to the faunus, who held out the flint and steel to the blonde with a sassy grin decorating her face.

“I thought that was in my coat pocket…”

“I took it out during the night to rekindle the fire. It died down while you were snoring away.”

Yang gave her a look of poorly-feigned insult, as though her partner had said something that stung her deeply.

“Oh! So I’m not warm enough for you?!” she said, trying to adopt a tone like some snooty royalty, before taking the offered flint and steel. It failed mostly, though it still elicited a charming giggle from her raven-headed partner. Yang supposed that was well enough as she leaned over and toward the kindling.

“Spark a dark, where’s my sire?” She muttered, rubbing the flint and steel slowly together, “Will I lay me? Will I stay me?”

She cocked the steel bit and launched it smoothly at the flint, showering sparks into the bed of kindling.

“Bless this camp with fire!” She finished with a happy smirk.

The fire caught and burned well, cooking the hare atop the flat stone not long after.

All in all, the two spent perhaps only half an hour at their little rest. The hare only took some ten minutes to cook, with the temperature of the sunbaked rock and the blazing fire beneath it working quite a charm. They ate it happily and contentedly as soon as it was ready, hunkering into a spot of shade only around twenty feet from the river’s edge while they did. There they sat together while the blonde’s clothes finished drying, watching the river crawl lazily by in the interim.

Once all was done, with both women fed and rested and the blonde clothed once more, they struck out into the heat of the day again. They crossed the thin river, which never became deeper than their knees, and continued into the maze of mesas and valleys, picking up on the scant trail left by their prey at his own passing. A scant few cigarette butts and the remains of a hastily destroyed campfire some three miles away from the main river, that thin and pitiful excuse they had rested by, told them they were going the right way.

From a perch atop a twelve-foot-tall boulder, some two miles off and barely in view if either woman had looked, the masked man watched them both with renewed interest while they pushed on.

His nearly translucent lips parted into a wickedly thin smile, dead eyes regarding them through the violet-glowing lenses of his mask.

 

Λ

 

He stood and watched while the sun beat down upon his hooded head, pulling hard and deep on the cigarette poking from his lips. The ember at the end blazed brightly and smoldered, filling his rotted lungs with its acrid smoke. He savored the tastes of the ancient tobacco, in all its myriad bouquets and flavors, while his milky eyes watched them from under the violet-glowing lenses of his mask.

He cracked another wicked smile, thin and wide and filled with rotted teeth of yellow and green, and pulled on the last of the hand-rolled delight. It burned up to the lips that were nearly see-through, marking them with another ring of black and charring the dead flesh, and died out once it reached his teeth. The rotted things dripped with some fetid goo, coming from his discolored gums that looked like nothing living should.

With an effortless motion, he spat the last inch of the hand-rolled cigarette onto the ground and departed his watch, leaving the boulder with a flutter of his long black cloak.

He stepped purposefully and quickly along the bank of one of the larger tributaries, which flowed unnaturally away from the thin remains of the main river body some five miles back, putting ever more distance between himself and his pursuers. He had no intent of losing them, heavens perish the thought, but neither did he mean to make it easy for them to catch him. It was his first real break in such a span of time as even he could no longer recall, and he did not mean to pass some half-baked and half-assed spit-wits off as the real deal unless they earned it from his dead fingers.

So on he went, pushing further along the oddly reversed tributary and heading deeper into the badland river network, working his way ever closer to the edge of the known reaches of Remnant’s geography. He knew precisely where he was going, of course, but this was to be expected of one who had wandered everywhere and everywhen for nigh unto eternity. He knew exactly where he wanted to lead the two headstrong women that continued after him, nipping at his heels like persistent pups unfettered by either distance or hardship.

He stopped some seven miles ahead of his prey, who he still allowed to believe were preying upon he himself. His flight along the sandy bank of the ancient tributary had brought him before a hole in the ochre rock of a particularly large mesa that stretched nearly twice the height of its surrounding brethren.

He looked deep into the hole, which stood some twenty feet tall and perhaps fifteen wide, and gave a soft and gentle whistle. It carried on the scant bit of breeze that picked up the moment his tune began to play from his lips, billowing playfully into the eternal darkness within the mouth of what was surely some terrible creature’s din. He played the tune for a good four minute’s time, neither receding nor faltering in his even tone, while his dead lungs pushed air continually through his nigh-translucent pursed lips.

When he finally let the whistle die, carrying off into an ever higher and weaker pitch before it faded entirely, there came a hiss in reply from deep in the belly of the cave. It was weak at first, as though very far and away from the masked man, but it grew louder and stronger over a very short time. He smiled and listened to it, feeling as though it were the sweetest thing he’d heard in a very long time. The sound washed over and through him as something approached.

When he finally began his flight once more, leaving behind both the women and the cave in ever increasing distance, the brightly glowing red eyes that had appeared were still upon his cloaked back. They watched curiously, filled with hate and fury more ancient than the hunters and huntresses, and perhaps even the dust that let man fight back against the Grimm, while the masked man fled further up the path of his chosen tributary.

They watched even a while longer after he had left their sight, waiting, perhaps, to see if he would turn back, before the primeval the eyes belonged to turned and departed into its ancient din. It would wait, exactly as he had instructed, though it had no love for the man any more so than it did for its own brethren. Even still, for love or loyalty or sheer enchantment that could not be denied, it would wait as bid until the time came.

And that time was very short off, indeed. It picked a spot near the mouth of the ancient hole it called home, curling up and listening for approaching footsteps, flicking out its forked tongue to taste the air and keening its eyes to watch for the slightest disturbance.

 

Ψ

 

The huntresses pressed further up the tributary that had contained the bits of trail left by their quarry. Even in the heat of midday, with the sun shining bright and hot at its zenith in the sky, their pursuit would not flag for fatigue or exhaustion. They were fed, they were quenched and they were cooled by the river. There would be no more excuse to make rest or camp until either night fell, bringing the hauntingly powerful cold of the badlands, or they caught the masked man.

Either would do. Both women thought so with equal surety. They remained sure of the humanity of their quarry, knowing no reason to think differently save for, perhaps, the uncanny swiftness of his flight from them. That detail aside, however, which could easily be attributed to conditioning and training like their own, the two were sure the cold of night would stop his flight as much as it would halt their pursuit.

So on they went, sure in their knowledge, following the winding path of the gradually dying tributary.

It was an odd thing for more than a few reasons, that weakly trickling brook that had only recently been like a very miniature river itself, some two miles back where it left the remains of the main river. Of all the other reasons, glossing over the odd smell that now came from the water and the gradually looser texture of the ground over which they traversed, the most unsettling aspect of the tiny tributary was its direction of travel.

It crawled determinedly along, much like the two women following its winding trail, at a west by northwest bearing. This was not unusual per se, though water rarely traveled in any northerly direction so far as they were aware. What truly made its direction of travel odd was the fact that, after the fourth mile along this stream’s banks, what was now little more than a weak creek traveled at a perceptibly upward angle, ever further away from what it should feed into, as it seemed to defy the natural order. It was passing strange, and both could feel it, but they let it do little other than strike them as odd while they moved onward.

The sandy bank had become wet enough by this point, soaked in some strange way by what was surely too little water passing by to do so, to keep the footprints of their quarry. There was enough of a trail for them to pick up on and begin to follow with more surety, their hearts and vigor both swelling with the feeling of impending closure. They picked up their pace as they followed it, briefly noting a distinct drag in the man’s left foot as they went onward.

It seemed that he might be injured, either long ago in a way that had not healed well or recently enough to stifle his walk, and this served only to further their waxing bravado.

“We’re closing in on him.” Yang muttered assuredly.

“Maybe.” Blake replied, cold and calm on the surface but shaking with anger and anxiety beneath. Her resolution was growing closer and closer at hand. Adam’s killer was coming within her grasp.

It nearly stole her breath to think on such.

When they had made it to the seventh mile from their mid-camp, on the shore of the tiny little river that grew ever further away, neither made any note of the cavernous maw that loomed none too far ahead. It was imposing and wickedly shadowed by the angle of the sun, looking like the mouth of a creature born purely from shadow. The stalactites that hung long and jagged from the topmost point of the hole served only to reinforce this effect.

Yet, regardless of the imposing nature of it, the two seemed entirely incapable of noticing the hole, nearly passing it by entirely. It wasn’t until Blake made an entirely instinctual move, after barely feeling the soft breeze of something approaching at monstrous speed, that either woman took note of the cavernous maw.

“Yang, stop!” she shouted, loud and alarmed, tucking low and leaping into her blonde partner.

The faunus landed well, shoving her shoulder into the woman’s side and wrapping her arms around her. The momentum of her leap pulled both women forward with a painful lurch, sending them tumbling along the sandy shore and through the thin streamlet that the tributary had now become.

The source of Blake’s panic and barely successful jump of instinct popped from the mouth of the gigantic cave, lunging with the speed of a bullet as it sailed through the air. The raven-headed faunus had only barely made her move in time, saving both herself and her partner at only the cost of the blonde’s flat-crowned hat which disappeared into their assailant’s maw.

The beast slammed hard into the foot of the mesa on the other side of the streamlet, crossing a distance of some hundred feet easily in only a fraction of a moment. It dug out a fantastic hole for itself, perhaps the beginnings of a new lair after it finished off the huntresses, upon its impact. The dust this stirred up billowed both ways through the valley that the tributary had cut in ages past, choking the entire area with a thick cloud of ochre powder.

Both women rolled a good distance, turning ass-over-teakettle some seven times before their travel was broken by a fairly large chunk of rock. The massive piece of quartz, entirely out of place with its shimmering bluish glory, stopped them well with a sickening and painful thud.

They coughed and rasped weakly, trying to pull themselves up and get to their feet, while the dust spread further and further through the canyon. Yang had to cover her mouth and nose with the collar of her coat, shielding her lungs as much as possible, simply to breathe through the choking cloud. Blake pulled her silk wrap up over her nose as soon as she found her feet, thumbing the goggles afterward to swap to the ivory lenses that could pierce the dirt-ridden fog.

Both nearly suffered their hearts to stop for what pierced the faint tinkle and trickle of broken rock and earth tumbling free from the mesa’s shattered bluff. By the time both women had found their footing, standing and readying themselves as quickly as possible, the creature that had attacked with such unseen ferocity was well and ready to press its assault.

They heard the thundering steps first, as though something shook the very crust of Remnant with its every footfall. The faint hissing came shortly after, at least to their ears, and was purveyed along with the lightning-fast flicking of the critter’s forked tongue. It lapped greedily and cautiously at the air, straining for a taste of its newfound prey and trying to discern exactly how dangerous the two might be.

After some two minutes of this, the women standing stunned while their fear gradually built and the creature slowly advancing with caution key in its mind, the dust stilled enough in the air for the huntresses to see through it. Not enough to make out what lumbered slowly toward them in full detail, and this was well and good, but they were able to make out its rough dimensions.

Their slight hint of terror blossomed nearly into a full-blown panic when both first regarded it in some semblance of clarity.

What advanced toward them traveled dexterously astride six legs, each moving with such perfect unity and precision with the others as to beggar disbelief. Atop its flat and long body, surely some seven meters in length, stretched a thin neck that ended in a very disturbing head not unlike a cobra’s. The top was fanned out, starting midway up the neck and ending in a dip just above the head, making it look much like the more romantic rendition of the heart.

It closed in purposefully and quick, giving the two only enough time to halfway gather their wits and fully draw their weapons. Yang made her cesti ready and loaded while Blake drew her odd revolver into her right hand, both readying themselves for its next move.

Not more than a moment later, after the creature seemed to halt a good distance from them, both women were nearly swallowed whole by the second strike.

The towering shadow, which now looked to reach some thirty feet above their heads, regarded them through the remaining veil of the dust cloud while both dropped into a ready stance. They prepped themselves to engage, waiting for the thing to make another move and hoping to turn the tables with a well-timed counter against it.

It lunged its head forward, lashing its neck like a bullwhip and opening its maw wide to gobble the huntresses in one fell swoop. Both parted and leapt at the same instant, heading in two opposite directions to miss the attack. Their evasion succeeded, with only the barest fraction of a second to spare. The force of its attack swept the dust away from the immediate vicinity of the three combatants.

It cleared up and the creature slowly hoisted its head proper again, readying to pick and engage one of the two women. They now saw it in its true and terrifying glory, a serpent of nightmare proportions and appearance astride six gangly legs that looked more like a spider’s than anything else.

Its eyes glowed fiercely with the sort of red hue one would believe only a manmade light could give off. They simply dripped with hate and contempt and no end of cunning while the primeval Grimm regarded the women, watching Blake with the left and Yang with the right. Each woman breathed in slow, haggard breaths. The creature’s eyes bounced and lolled between them as if to size them up from head to toe, moving independently like the eyes of a chameleon.

_“Come ye not into the Valley of Death unweathered and unwary, stripling woman-children.”_

The sound came from everywhere and nowhere at once, piercing both women with a feeling as though their heads would split. It felt like the sound had come from within their minds and echoed into their very souls. Both clutched their heads, believing they would fall apart if they didn’t, and nearly buckled their knees under the foreign sensation.

Blake hitched and retched dryly while Yang turned and vomited into the tiny stream.

_“I have ever been and will ever be, striplings.”_ It came again, renewing the assault on the huntresses with damned force, _“You will be my dinner and nothing more.”_

 

Λ

 

The long black cloak floated coyly on the breeze that now rushed past the masked man, hard and strong, carrying off through the canyon that stretched behind him. It pulled his hood down and exposed his rotted face, blowing forth from the stunning scene below and before him. The smells it brought with it were glorious.

He stood now at the last leg of his journey, overlooking a vast stretch of the deepest blue waters some four miles below his present vantage. The drop was sheer and the walls that encircled the sunken bowl below held no deviations in their smooth surface. They looked as though a glassmaker had painstakingly cut them, leaving the ochre walls as smooth as finely polished marble.

At his feet, trickling faintly whilst it continued to defy gravity and nature to the last, the tributary he had followed poured over the sheer drop and fed into the massive body of water below. Its weak stream was joined by countless others, all along the circular wall of the bowl, that fed into the gargantuan lake beneath.

The lake’s surface was calm and still, undisturbed by the wind that carried powerfully and nearly cold over it. It looked much and more like a perfectly shaped mirror of sapphire, colored a deep royal blue that reflected the sun’s powerful rays back to the sky. From where it touched the wall of its bowl, sitting perfect and calm against the smooth surface with no shoreline, it reached some thirty miles across.

His milky eyes began to water, perhaps tearing up with joy, while he swept his gaze over the perfection of it all. He breathed deeply, filling the remains of his lungs with the soothing scent that came from the lake; the fresh and calming smell of absolutely pure water, untouched by any living being so far as one could tell.

But he knew better. He knew much the likewise, being that he had seen the birth and death of countless when’s and where’s. He knew that there did exist _one_ thing within those perfect waters, sleeping and waiting as it ever had since before mankind, pitiful children of dust, first walked the dirt of Remnant’s surface.

He knew that there was one more primeval within his easy reach, ready to be made the last hurdle for his intrepid pursuers if they managed to overcome the first.

With this knowledge, and with his rotted lungs still full of the nigh-perfect air of the titanic lake, he took a long and calm step forward. He plummeted quickly like a stone, holding his stance as though standing the entire way down, until his sandaled feet found the water’s surface.

He landed with a barely audible plop, sending only a few droplets of water into the air and a scant ring of tiny ripples along the untouched surface. Then, with his feet finding purchase as though it were solid, he proceeded to walk over the sapphire surface of the lake. Step after step he went, sending the same weak ripples as his landing with each footfall, pushing on toward the center of the seemingly endless stretch of perfect waters.

He tilted his head back and let the nearly cold breeze play with the few strands of his gossamer-thin hair that remained. It hung only in some few patches here and there on his mostly exposed skull, where the flesh had not yet fallen away despite his nigh-endless existence. Even still, he made this all too human gesture while he walked along over the surface of the water.

Once he’d come to about the halfway point between himself and his destination, which had just barely come into view off in the distance, he stopped and sat himself down. With legs crossed and feet tucked upon his folded knees, he reached into his ancient and ragged coat and produced a small pouch of rawhide. He withdrew a single thin sheet of paper and a pinch of tobacco, the latter of which was older than the most primeval of the Grimm, and began to roll himself a cigarette as he so oft enjoyed doing.

Even he, who had existed longer than life, had his vices.

Once the smoke-stick was formed to satisfaction, he poked it into his mouth and bit gently on the end while he rummaged around for a match. He found one and quickly lit it, puffing a few times before tossing the first pollutant that the lake had ever known into the as-yet untouched waters.

After he toked a good half of the smoke-stick to ash, he held it away from his lips and began to whistle his eerie tune once again. It carried long and sharp on the breeze that still played with his few strands of hair, echoing proudly from the smooth ochre rock face of the bowl. It danced along the surface of the water, piercing it unnaturally as the sound crept into the surely endless depths of blue. He did this for four minutes or so, just as he had at the cavern’s entrance, and awaited his next messenger.

The answer came not as sound this time, like the serpentine primeval further into the tributary had, but more akin to a rumble that began to disturb the entire surface of the sapphire waters beneath him. The whole lake shook with it, forming ripples all along the surface that spread out in a maddening tangle.

It was a longer wait for the masked man this time. He sat there, basking in the perfect triune of the sun’s heat, the breeze’s cool caress and the final echoes of his finished whistle for nearly a full ten minutes.

Once it had come, and he had given his order through silent palaver, the masked man stood and continued across the lake toward its center, smiling his wicked smile while glowing yellow eyes watched him go. They remained poked above the sapphire surface, once more calm some twenty minutes later, watching him go off toward a single speck of green on the horizon.

The eyes eventually dipped back into the endless depths, once the man had gone from their sight entirely, and awaited the coming of those they were to watch for. This one held no love in itself either, neither for the masked man nor for anything else in the world it inhabited, but it too would wait as bid. It would wait and watch as it wondered if it would even be needed.

While this all went on, there came an ever increasing crescendo of crashes and hollow cracks from the tributary that the masked man had come from. They echoed out into the bowl of the massive lake whilst the two huntresses fought for their lives against the first of their true trials.

 

Ψ

 

The blonde peeled herself painfully from the crevice she had made with her impact, after being tossed by the powerful tail of their opponent. She could hear her partner’s shouts and grunts in a bleary sort of way, sounding as though they came to her through a thick haze or deep water. She realized, once she’d regained her feet and forced her eyes open once more, that she could feel a trickle of something warm and sticky flowing through the flaxen locks above her temple.

Gingerly, wincing as she did, Yang pressed two fingers against the soft bit of skin and pulled them into her field of view. She could make out the crimson on their tips immediately and briefly wondered if the bleary quality of the sound was a product of another concussion. She quickly pushed the thought from her mind and loaded fresh rounds into her odd cesti before leaning into her ready stance and kicking off into the fray yet again.

The faunus was busily dodging the nimble strikes of the beast’s massive fangs and clawed feet, turning hither and thither as she twisted her body to miss each potentially fatal blow. The thing moved like nothing she’d ever encountered, ignoring the shades she left behind with her semblance as it moved to strike its true target every time. It was fast and smart and wickedly cruel in its motions. Even more so with what appeared to be tactical thought, something she remembered being taught that Grimm absolutely did not possess.

“Open up, ugly!” she heard Yang call before seeing the streak of flame whizz past her field of view.

The blonde missed her intended strike, only nicking the top of the creature’s withers instead of planting her cestus into its ribs like she had planned. Still, it was some small satisfaction when a pained shriek issued from the creature’s yawning maw. Her strike had torn a chunk from one of the armored plates of its shoulders, shattering the rest when she passed through with her blow, and had at least done some damage.

Blake saw her chance and took it, bringing her revolver to sight-in when the massive creature reared up on its hindmost legs. She squeezed the delicate trigger thrice in quick succession, loosing hot blasts of lightning-aspected dust and lead with each volley. The powerful sound of thunder echoed throughout the valley, following both ways through the canyon and carrying on for miles.

Her shots struck true with their powerful effect, clapping large gouts of flame and plasma into the jet-black hide of the primeval Grimm. However, much to both women’s dismay, it did not push the battle in their favor in any meaningful way.

Yang quickly recovered herself from her mostly missed blow just in time to see the creature hurdling its front half back to the earth and, more importantly, toward her partner. She crouched low and pointed her cesti behind herself, cycling the mechanism inside to fire three rounds at once with each, and loosed a humbling jet of force at the canyon wall behind her.

It picked her up and threw her like a shooting star, sending the woman flying toward her partner. She struggled to reach her arms out ahead of her, managing all of this in only a few moments, and swept the faunus off her feet and away from the devastating impact of the primeval’s body slam. Both were sent on yet another tumble when the creature’s impact carried forth, hauling an imposing cloud of dust and sand with it.

They spilled across the water of the tributary painfully and hard, scraping against rocks that tore fresh wounds before coming to a stop some thirty feet off.

“We’re not going to win this with brute force, Yang…” the raven-headed woman wheezed from under her partner, who had ended up atop her after their spill had halted.

“Maybe not…” Yang replied, pushing herself up wearily, “But we _are_ going to win.”

The blonde turned to ready herself again, her eyes tinting to red, and loosed her fury in full. She held her cesti out and low to her hip, fists pointed forward, and dropped into a stance of attack.

Blake had no time to respond. The blonde pushed off and reengaged their foe while she pulled herself up and watched the exchange for a moment. She marveled at how the serpentine creature moved off from every potentially injurious blow so very easily, desperately trying to recall what had been eating at her mind almost from the start.

She could remember, however faintly, that a certain history class she’d taken at Beacon had briefly touched on a creature that vaguely matched this one’s description. Something only worth passing mention in their bestiary lessons, the professor had decided to briefly touch the subject of the legendary Grimm that were mostly understood to be little more than myth. Creatures that had haunted mankind’s history in the shadows of their oral tradition, either having never existed in the first place or having slinked off into hiding long before recorded history began.

Basyl was the name that came to her mind; a serpentine lord of the desert and wasteland Grimm that dissuaded any who held a notion to inhabit the arid reaches of Vacuo’s expansive badlands. The look of this one fit the scant details she could recall almost to a tittle. It was fast and agile and strong; it was cruel in its persistence and remorseless in its approach; worst of all, however, it was intelligent and tactical, something that Grimm could only achieve after an almost impossibly long life.

If what she remembered was right, and true to any small degree what’s more, then this one would have to be well beyond ancient. Victory would be hard won indeed, if it even came at all.

“Yang!” she shouted, pushing the unsettling thoughts from her head.

“What?!” the blonde yelled in reply, leaping away from another swing of the creature’s massive tail.

“Look for tooth marks on its back!” she tried to be heard over the crash of splitting rocks and the skitter of flying sand, “Hit those if you can see them!”

She prayed the gambit might work, even if only to a small degree, while her partner landed and leapt sideways. The blonde had heard her, heavens be praised, and set immediately to trying to outmaneuver the beast so as to find the mentioned marks. She was moving excellently too, hurdling herself nimbly and purposefully around each strike launched by the primeval Basyl.

_“Think me not foolish, striplings!”_ the voice roared into their heads once more, shaking both women to their core. It would have fully incapacitated them, as it had before, were it not for the fact that they were now expecting it to some degree by this point in their death-dance.

_“You’ll find no scar in my hide, no chink in my armor! Only your death will you find, as it **is** my will!”_

It hauled one of its massive forelegs up into the air, readying a deadly sweep from the left with its scythe-like claws, and swung with lightning speed at the blonde. She was in midstride on the ochre rock of the canyon wall, running along to try for the Grimm’s back, when the blow issued forth. After a thunderous roar, it barely missed her and instead cut cleanly through the rock above with terrifying force.

The barrel of Blake’s revolver wisped a thin thread of smoke into the air, having just fired the last three shots in its cylinder, while she watched her partner leap from the wall. Her aim had been quick and true, striking the swinging paw and shattering three of the claws with the bloom of its lightning and flames. This threw the creature’s swing off enough for the blonde to miss it and finish her maneuver.

Yang had pushed off after a few more steps and flown quickly for the creature’s sleek back. She landed while it still writhed over its injured paw, scooping low and grabbing onto a protruding bit of armor-like bone. Without wasting so much as a moment, she began to scan for the teeth marks.

Her fiery-red eyes crawled all across the jet-black scales, looking and looking without success, when the thing began to try and buck her off.

“Do you see it?!” Blake screamed, running for the creature and ducking down to slide under another swing.

“No!” Yang replied, hanging on for dear life while the thing wriggled ever more wildly.

“Keep looking! It’s our only shot!”

Blake began to feel dirty, far off in her mind where it could little distract her, for diverting her partner so. It was not a lie in all truth, for it was their only real chance so long as the thing remained distracted, but she knew well that she was putting the woman in more danger than she should’ve. She knew it and hated herself for doing it.

Her slide along the muddy stream, what had been the thin tributary before their death-dance began and all but ruined it, brought her under the massive Grimm’s belly. It was just as jet-black as the rest of it, sleek and shiny and imposing to the eye, with none of the bony protrusions that dotted the rest of it like armor. She noted this only briefly before turning her card and making her move, cashing in on the gambit she’d begun with her bogus pleas for Yang to seek out tooth marks above.

The raven-headed faunus dug her heels into the muddy stream and clenched her abs, launching herself upright as quickly as she could. It briefly amazed her that, even as she came a few feet off the ground, the belly of the Grimm that stood ready to end them both towered an easy four more over her head. Not thinking on this, nor on the present predicament of her partner that she could only pray was still holding on, she swung the revolver up and over her head with as much force as she could muster.

The crescent blade found purchase in the softer hide of the primeval’s belly, tearing in and slicing through with surgical ease. The woman followed this up with a deft forward flip, tucking herself into a ball the moment the blade came free and rolling out from under the creature in one swift motion.

Blake then leapt to her feet, digging her heels into the ground and halting her forward motion to do so, and spun around no sooner than she had cleared the creature’s tail. What happened next filled her with dismay, more for the sight than for the awful sound that now began to ring through her very being.

Whatever it was that kept talking to them, whether the creature’s actual voice or some sort of semi-psychic presence, it was now in terrible pain. It shrieked loudly and sharply in both their heads, echoing around as though it would melt their minds and shatter their skulls. Blake’s vision began to blur while she watched the blonde release her grip and cover her ears. It was instinctual, she knew such for sooth, but it did no good. Her brazen partner, agonizing with the ethereal sound, began to plummet while the creature instinctively reared up on its hind legs.

It would fall on her, Blake was sure of this, and so the faunus abandoned every pretense of self-preservation and shot forward with all her will.

She crossed the distance in a flash and hit her partner hard, crashing into the same side as she had when first she preserved the blonde’s life. Her motion carried both of them across the tributary and into the creature’s cave while a sharp pain bloomed to life on her thigh. Both hit the ground hard, knocking the wind from their lungs, and rolled into the pitch-black depths.

 

Ψ

 

They awoke shortly after falling unconscious. The lumbering thud of their enemy’s approach did not wake them, as they were too far fatigued and battered for such. Instead, they were awoken by what sounded like a gurgled hiss, coming from within and without at once. It rattled the meat between their ears, just as it had every other time, and pulled them from the blackness they had sunken into.

_“Fetid dust…”_ it pounded through the gurgling hiss, _“Will you still give chase?”_

The women opened their eyes in tandem, peeking blearily at the figure that blocked the light from the cavern’s entrance. It stood imposing and proud and regarded them with its hateful eyes, glowing as bright and red as ever. One foreleg could be seen to be bent, wrapped up under its body and clutching its wounded belly, but it looked otherwise unfazed to their bleary eyes.

_“If your mouths remain silent, I will simply eat you. Answer me, striplings, before my patience wanes fully…”_

Blake and Yang shared a brief glance, confused and perhaps a little terrified, before the blonde spoke up first. Her voice wavered with disbelief and battle fatigue, but her words carried strong in the still darkness.

“What if we do ‘ _mean to give chase_ ’?” she asked, mimicking what she assumed was the creature’s voice with more than a little disdain, “What do you plan to do? Stop us? Ha!”

She stood shakily to her feet, swaying once before catching herself and straightening up. Her eyes still carried their fierce red glow from the battle and her hair still shined with a bright golden flame. She stared the gargantuan Grimm down with utter defiance.

“I made a promise I’m going to keep. No scraggly excuse for a six-legged lizard is going to stop me. Nor, for that matter, will it be stopping my partner while I’m still breathing. So come on! Come eat me if you think you’ve got the stomach to handle it!”

Her eyes glowed even brighter and her hair flared up once more, lighting the cavern with its brilliant glow. The creature stepped closer to the boisterous woman, its footfalls shaking the ground while one paw continued to clutch at its stomach. It stood directly before her, leveling its own red gaze with hers, but made no move to attack.

_“I could kill you, wretched dust, with but my word alone.”_ The voice rumbled in her head while the primeval stared into her eyes, glowing red to glowing red, _“But if you mean to give chase even still, then my part is done. Go when it suits you but trouble me no more, lest you wish your lives ended before you have your resolution. Take rest and chase the rotting one again, but leave me to my solitude…”_

The voice receded with all the soft calm of a departing migraine and the beast stepped purposefully over the women, retreating into the darkness of its ancient lair.

Yang turned and moved as if she meant to chase it down when she felt a soft tug on her heel. She stopped and turned her gaze down to see the raven-headed faunus, still curled up on the ground, holding her left leg tightly to her chest. At that sight, the blonde forgot the massive serpentine Grimm altogether and kneeled down to tend to her partner.

“Let it go, Yang.” Blake pleaded softly, not seeing that the woman had no more intent to go after their accoster.

“Don’t worry, Miss Kitty.” The blonde responded softly, “I’m more concerned about you than that… _thing_.”

She looked toward the leg her partner clutched so tightly with more than a little worry in her lavender eyes.

“What’s wrong with your leg?” She asked, reaching to try and have a look. Blake only swept her hand away.

“I’ll be fine.” She said assuredly, “But we have to get back after him if we’re going to catch him…”

Yang ignored her partner’s words and reached her hand out to see about the leg again. This time the faunus offered no resistance, letting the woman pull her arm away and look at the mess of her thigh.

It alarmed her, but not overly so. The blonde was never one to give into panic or despair. For this, and for reasons more intimate and pressing, she ignored the initial shock and scooped her injured partner into her arms. She carried the woman up the short distance to the cavern’s entrance and exited the dark hole into the last light of the day.

The orange-red rays of the sun had painted the sky an unsettling menagerie of vivid colors when they came out into the open again. It was mostly hidden from their view by the walls of the valley, leaving the two battered huntresses in shadow for the most part, but still lit just enough of their way for both to see.

Without going far from the cavern, Yang found a decent rock, one of only a few still intact within the area of their battle, and laid her partner down with her back against it. She then took a closer look at the thigh with the last bit of sunlight to aid her task.

It was torn open with a surgical cleanliness, but thankfully the wound was only skin-deep. At the worst point it might have reached only so far as the bottom-most layer of flesh, leaving it too shallow to have damaged muscle or sinew. Yang saw this and, with a deep sigh of relief, smiled at her faunus partner.

“You’ll be alright.” She said with soft and loving eyes, “I’ll get you sewn and patched up in a jiffy, and we’ll be after our guy by tomorrow.”

“Think of how far he could get by then, Yang!” Blake nearly screamed. It was unusual for her to let her emotions show so blatantly, but the blonde made no regard of it. After the day they’d both had, it was more than a little understandable.

“We’ll catch him...” Yang insisted calmly as she prepared to treat the wound, “I promise you, Blake. _We will catch him._ ”

 

Ψ

 

They had no campfire that night to keep them warm, but the two found heat all the same whilst resting at the mouth of the primeval’s cave. The valley of the tributary, which was now little more than a run of muddy water creeping over the upset ground, seemed to defy the encroaching cold of the badlands. The biting freeze that had come to them every night for the last two months, while they chased the masked man ever further into nowhere, was robbed of its teeth by the ochre surroundings.

The sky above also served to distract them from the little bit of cold that found them. It was such an absolute shade of black that each and every little dot of starlight could be seen clearly. Even the shattered moon, which looked close enough to reach out and touch, had an unusual clarity to it. Both women watched this with childlike awe while they sat against the uneven wall of the cavernous maw.

They watched this and were very content, despite their bumps and bruises and wounds.

“Hey, Yang…” Blake spoke up through the soft silence, her ears twitching playfully in the gentle breeze that blew by.

“Hm?”

The blonde’s voice was dreamy and far away while her bruised fingers ran distractedly through her partner’s hair. The hummed response reverberated in Yang’s throat and tickled the faunus’ ears pleasingly while she lay with her head against the blonde’s ample chest.

“Aren’t you worried about Ruby?” she asked tentatively, loving every soft stroke of the fingers running through her raven tresses.

“Why would I be?” Yang replied, pulling her fingers free before running them back through again.

“Well…”

Blake paused, thinking it over for a moment before asking. Better now while they might yet turn back than later when they found and faced their masked quarry.

“Aren’t you worried this guy might be too much for us?”

“Nope.”

The faunus’ breath hitched in her throat at that and she turned her gaze up to her partner. The woman’s face bespoke no hint of reservation or doubt whatsoever, holding, instead, a serene look of utter calm and surety. It made her heart flutter to see that look of resolve.

“Are you _that_ brave or _that_ foolish?” Blake whispered and continued to stare.

Now, at last, Yang turned her lavender eyes down to her partner’s soft features. A thin but happy smile spread across her lips, sending another shiver through Blake’s heart.

“I made you a promise.” She said placidly, her face and eyes glowing in the moonlight, “I made her a promise too…”

She turned her gaze back to the heavens and looked off into their cosmic depths.

“I’m not going to die out here, or anywhere anytime soon.” She said with conviction, “We’ll catch him and we’ll make him pay for what he’s done and we’ll both come back from this. We’ll come back and we’ll have a good, long life as legendary huntresses…”

Blake could’ve sworn, despite her own relief at hearing those words, that she heard the slightest falter in her partner’s voice. She kept staring up at the placid blonde, her sight seeming much more lucid and vibrant than it ever had before. With that feeling burning in her mind, and even more so in her heart, Blake pushed herself up on her elbows, reaching up toward her partner while the woman’s gaze remained heavenward.

She planted a soft and simple kiss against Yang’s lips, holding it there for some time while a single tear slid down one pale cheek.


	7. Thus, Kindly, I Scatter - Part 2: Ashes, Ashes...

Chapter 6

Thus, Kindly, I Scatter

Part 2

Ashes, Ashes…

 

Λ

 

The masked man had spent the better portion of the day watching the sun. He kept his milky eyes, rotted and dead and no worry for going blind, turned heavenward beneath the eerie wooden visage upon his flaking, putrid face. Something about the glowing orb simply fascinated him. It called to him in a way that little else had over the eons of his existence. Perhaps the heat was it, or perhaps even the way that it sat above all and proclaimed itself supreme. Yet, more than anything else, he earnestly believed it was the light.

He could almost remember, yes, very nearly, that he had once had shared something very intimate with the notion of light.

He let this go, however, and gave up on the train of thought. There was witchy-work to do, as he so companionably thought of it, and the time drew ever closer to do it. He had made it to the city, as he knew he would, and they were shortly behind him. He could feel Basyl’s task was finished. This made him somewhat sad and somewhat giddy. Now it was up to the latter, and he thoroughly believed the show should be fantastic.

The masked man dropped his gaze from the heavens and settled them onto the still sapphire mirror of the titanic lake. Its waters were just as calm as he’d left them, when only the previous day he’d stepped from their unmoving surface and onto the massive savannah below his perch.

Here, atop his vantage on the tallest of the white marble towers in the ruined city, he could see all. And it amazed him. That such a behemoth of a cityscape, stretching easily forty miles across from east to west and some seventy from south to north, could hide in a lake of only thirty miles across was nothing short of humbling, even to him. Even with his eyes, dead though they were, his uncannily powerful sight couldn’t pick out the city from the mouth of the nigh-dead tributary from whence he’d leapt.

Oh, the marvels of his Master were ever ceaseless.

So he watched and waited with patience unerring. He had to, of course, for under the shaky hand of his Master, who rightly should know no cessation, the warping of reality had left time somewhat weaker. It was palpable, especially to one who knew what to look for, but he was sure they would notice nothing unordinary. So he simply waited and watched.

The breeze picked up while he did, tugging at the tail of the cloak that was stuck under his seated posterior. He sat atop the curved dome of the tower with his legs crossed as the breeze passed, leaning back on his palms and letting his hood slide off his tilting head.

It tousled the few gossamer strands of hair that still clung to his mostly decayed scalp. The silvery strands dipped toward the front of his face, tickling the exposed skull and cheekbone as they did. A horrid sight for most any sane individual, but for the masked man it was a welcome bit of reprieve. To feel that cool breeze, blowing off the sapphire waters of the lake and carrying the simple scent of purity, was nothing short of electrifying.

He took a deep, ragged breath, his lungs hitching as they filled full of the wonderfully freeing air, and billowed a puff of greenish haze as he released it.

He turned his gaze down again and, this time, fixed his sight toward the path the women would be coming from. He knew from which of the streamlets they would soon be looking his way; knew it well apart from the hundreds that there were. So he settled his gaze and watched, waiting for the real show to start.

Yet, there was something else as he waited. Something unusual, to say the least. Something that, to his wit, should rightfully not be there.

He had felt this sensation on a few occasions in his memory. It was not foreign but it was unusual all the same. It came every time that his task neared its end, when the subjects of his hunt came close. But it always seemed to appear when he was certain that they would fail his final marking.

He keened his dead eyes and peered intently toward the streamlet, feeling that sensation and watching for signs of their approach. The masked man was certain he had picked well this time, therefore it came as somewhat of a shock that his un-beating heart should be so moved. Still, while he continued to watch it continued to grow. The feeling became stronger and stronger as the weakened time passed, moments stretching and yawing into hours or perhaps even days, and he mused on it only further.

The sun began to feel somewhat hot to his skin. Another sensation to perplex him as he mulled the feeling in his un-beating breast…

 

Ψ

 

“I told you I’m fine!” the faunus protested weakly, pushing her partner’s hand away from her bandaged leg.

The blonde gave only a muted, worried look in response, pulling her hand back and straightening herself. She sat on her knees, the leather of her jackboots digging into the soft meat on the back of them. Her lavender eyes spoke volumes of her worry over the injured faunus, making up for what her pursed lips did not utter in their silence.

“And stop giving me that look…” Blake continued, turning her own golden eyes away from Yang’s.

Sleep had come well and welcome for nearly seven hours, more than either woman had known in years now, but had regrettably been sundered by the faunus’ screams. At some point during their slumber, a dream, the details of which were already gone from her, had accosted the raven-headed woman’s sleeping psyche and torn apart her restfulness. She had arisen quite immediately after it had reached the acme of its terror.

The screams woke her partner at once, sending both women into a battle-ready and controlled panic. Once all had been cleared, and once both were sure that no danger lurked in the early-morning shadows, the present roundabout had begun and carried through until now.

“Blake, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Yang pleaded cautiously. She had held her silence for want of words that might convince her partner, but now abandoned it in the hopes that anything at all would serve better than nothing.

The look of hurt and alarm that Blake gave in reply, colored more by the remnants of her forgotten dream than by any real negativity toward the blonde, told Yang all she needed.

She sighed deeply.

“We’re not gonna catch him if your leg’s all busted up, or, worse, infected.” Yang pleaded once more, trading her formerly cautious tone for a carefully played mix of sympathy and coercion, “Just let me put some salve on it, at the very least, huh?”

Blake stared with the same mix of hurt and alarm, almost looking halfway to madness, before suddenly pushing herself to her feet. She winced with the pain, a thin grimace that spoke more than a thousand dying shrieks to Yang’s eyes. When she stood she swayed twice and caught herself both times. After that, she stood straight and well and leveled her eyes to her partner’s, looking deep into those worried lavenders.

“ _I told you…_ ” she began, forcefully, “ _I’m fine._ ”

The faunus let her words trail off for a moment before she began toward the stream. It was only a handful of yards from the mouth of Basyl’s cavern, where they had slept seven of the last nine hours and argued the last two. Her limp was pronounced despite her effort not to let it show.

Yang opened her mouth to say something in reply as her partner limped toward the pitiful flow of water, which _still_ pushed steadily up the incline, but shut it again after only a moment’s consideration. Instead she stood and, after quickly gathering up her coat, followed. Both women washed their faces in silence, and even splashed some water under their arms and on their necks, but neither dared to drink the water.

Something, somewhere deep in their minds, told them it was bad.

 

Ψ

 

When they first reached it, the sun had climbed to its daytime peak and fully settled there. The women had managed the last miles from the mouth of Basyl’s cavern in a little under five hours, making fantastic time considering their condition. They hadn’t bothered with breakfast, neither was hungry for a variety of reasons, and had only spared the bare minimum of time for three different breaks. Two were for Blake to have a breather, which she tried desperately to play down, and one was for a necessary.

Yet, once they’d reached the precipice, neither spared any thought for either the passage of time or the heat of the midday sun. Too great a sight now lay before them for either to worry over the beads of sweat running down their neck and soaking into their shirts. Too marvelous was the grandeur of this place to spare a thought on their growling stomachs and aching muscles.

Neither had ever dreamed or imagined such a place could even exist.

First to catch their bewildered gazes was the mirror-surface of the waters some four miles below their feet, at the end of the nigh-endless drop upon which they now stood. The surface looked like a perfectly carved and buffed sapphire, so still and pure was the water. Its mirror-like appearance was only furthered by the manner in which the sun was reflected from it. The look this created gave off a sense that, were one brave or mad enough, one could reach another world by leaping into the blue surface. It looked much and more like a portal, perhaps, or some kind of teleport waiting to whisk one away.

Next, for the majesty of the waters was not the only thing here to amaze, both women were humbled by the sheer size of it all. The gargantuan bowl in which the lake sat, far too big for either to even try to comprehend, was of such enormity and titanic scale that the water looked infinite, even from their high perch. The walls, too, only further added to this feeling of nigh-infinite size. They were perfectly smooth as if carved by some long-dead god or another. They sailed down toward the water with the minutest of a curve and joined the sapphire surface in a manner that made it look as if the two were one.

The illusion might have held true were it not for the difference of color; the walls of the bowl being a deep ochre while the water within was of the deepest sapphire-blue.

“He’s down there, somewhere…” Blake mused, first to break their shared silence, as her golden eyes continued to stare in bewilderment. Her goggles hung neatly from the scabbard at the small of her back, glinting an occasional bit of sunlight back toward the burning star above. Had she the forethought to don them, the faunus might’ve picked out the faint silhouette of the masked man on his perch so very far away.

Alas, in her own stunned awe, Blake had no such thought as to look for him.

“I’m sure he is…” Yang replied dreamily, not quite coming out of her own stupor when she levied the response.

They could only continue to stare for a time, watching the motionless surface of the water below, not quite sure it was actually water to begin with. In some far off part of their minds, both women vaguely noted not only their own little streamlet, flowing weakly between them and spilling into a cloud of mist over the edge of the drop, but the hundreds of others that ringed the half of the bowl they could spy. Each carried over its own edge, likely pushing upward as unnaturally as their own, and spilled over.

Some were stronger and maintained their form as they plunged into the lake, looking much like the trickle of a tap that one forgets to turn entirely off after using the latrine. Others, most of which were the ones closest to them, were clearly just as weak and broke apart into their own clouds of watery mist in their descent. However, regardless of how they began, all the streamlets made a most startling change on the way down.

Roughly two thirds of the way, whether misty cloud or tap-like trickle, the water changed to a breathtaking blue. From there, all the plummeting water coalesced into a solid, almost manufactured looking stream and joined the sapphire waters, leaving no disturbance whatsoever upon impact. It was as if the water simply fused into one massive body; no ripple or wave left the point of the streams’ conjoiner.

“What is this place?”

Yang blinked heavily, almost sleepily, and turned to face her partner. The raven-headed faunus did the same, at nearly the same moment, and both stared at each other with looks of stupefaction. They had both heard the other say it.

“I don’t know…” Yang said first, followed almost perfectly by Blake.

Both stopped and clapped their hands tight over their mouths. Blake’s eyes were keen and piercing as they gazed into Yang’s lavenders. The blonde’s had lost their sleepy look, stolen away by the startling air that had come upon them so unnoticed, and looked into her partner’s with a naked expression of shock.

“You heard that, right?” Yang asked, her words muffled almost comically by her interlaced fingers.

Blake only nodded in response.

“You asked what this place was, right?” the blonde asked again, her voice once more nigh-comical.

Again, Blake only nodded her response.

“Why are you looking at me like that, then?” Yang pressed further.

Blake continued to stare, continued to wear a look of mixed dumbfoundedness and surprise, but managed a reply after a short time. Her voice trembled a tad, the pain in her leg groaning with something like a throbbing heat, but the blonde made it out all the same.

“You said it, too.” Blake almost whispered, “You asked what this place was, didn’t you?”

Both women were warriors. Both were well-trained and very much conditioned to ignore one of the more primal feelings of all living things. To them, fear was only a ‘cuss-word’ that bore no place in their vocabulary or thoughts. It was something to be forgotten, much like the dolls and dress-up-outfits of their youth, as it no longer had a purpose for them.

Yet, in this moment, both felt it anew. Seeping, snaking in and setting up shop, unnoticed and unexpected. From whence it came, neither knew; wherefore it came, neither cared. That it came at all was reason enough for concern.

“What the hell _is_ he…” Yang mused, whispering more to herself than asking a question. She turned her gaze back toward the waters, the unmoving sapphire mirror some four miles below her now slightly trembling feet.

 

Ψ

 

Their bewildered watch was broken some twenty minutes in. After a time of staring in further silence, mulling over the queer exchange they had shared and the monolithic majesty of the lake before them, a realization had come to both. Their prey was down there, somewhere, and the two of them would have to figure out a way to cross this monstrous body of water. If they were to continue their pursuit of the masked man, then the lake was their newest obstacle.

Once that had occurred to them and thoroughly settled into their heads, the stupor of it all had broken off and mostly subsided. The strange unison of that shared question, the strange look and nature of their newest obstacle, all of it made way for the most present of concerns.

How to cross and where to go if they could.

Yang took a step back first and sat on her rump with a dusty plop. The ground beneath her was sand, as it had been since they’d found the river so many miles back, but her sudden seating stirred it into the air as if it were merely loose dust. The blonde paid this no mind.

Blake was next, taking a good four strides backward as the realization hit her. She limped brazenly, making no attempt to hide or downplay it in her dawning revulsion, before taking her own seat on the sandy shore of the tiny streamlet. Just as with Yang, the faunus’ seating stirred the sand into the air like dust and, also as with Yang, the raven-headed woman paid it no heed.

“He’s… down there… somewhere…” Blake whispered in both disbelief and horror. Proud faunus or no, she could not stymie the more animalistic part of her nature toward the present conundrum. The feline ears atop her head, hidden well under her tightly wrapped bandana, pressed to her scalp as though proclaiming loudly this very protest.

“Yeah. He is.” Yang spoke up, pulling Blake’s attention away from the horrifying prospect of what would undoubtedly come next.

The faunus turned her eyes to her partner, the golden orbs pleading nearly as much as her voice.

“There’s no other way, is there?”

“Probably not.” Yang replied ponderously, “But even if there was, we’d waste weeks or months trying to find it. Look at the size of this… _thing_ , Blake.”

The blonde swept her left hand toward the bowl and the waters within.

“If he’s on the other side, we’d lose him _long_ before getting there.” She went on, “And if, for whatever reason, he’s somewhere down there… somewhere _in_ there… We’d never know from up here.”

Both looked back to the lake. Both looked back to the sapphire mirror of the water. Both felt their hearts drop down into their stomachs.

“How do we even get _down_ there, though?” Blake asked after a time of further staring, though she truly had no want to know if there was a way at all.

Yang was going to reply, had even opened her mouth and begun to pass the air over her vocal chords to speak, but was interrupted. The two women heard it, or, perhaps more truthfully, felt it in the pit of their minds. It wasn’t like the last, a discordant and conquering presence, but it was equally powerful.

“ _Why not jump on in?_ ”

Like a whisper, as though one’s own thought had merely passed by the mind’s eye, it came and went nearly unnoticed.

“Why don’t we just jump in?” Yang suggested, not entirely realizing what she had even said.

Blake’s dumbfounded stare, made up of disapproval and shock in nearly equal measure, gave the blonde pause. Yang tilted her head quizzically to the side and stared back.

“What?” she nearly blurted, “Did you expect me to know?”

“No, but I didn’t expect that…” Blake responded, still giving her partner the same shocked stare.

“Expect what? For me to say ‘I don’t know’?”

Blake’s look of shock took on more of a sense of stupefaction once more, losing the disapproving stare and gaining a hint of something akin to dismay. She drew her legs up, wincing at the bloom of pain in her thigh, and hugged her knees to her chest.

“Something’s not right here…” the faunus mused.

The breeze picked up then, blowing strongly between the two of them and into the bowl of the lake. It was cool and crisp in a way much unlike the badlands, but carried something else with it. Another whisper, the same as the last they hadn’t truly heard, that pierced both once more without their knowing.

“ _Everything’s right in this place! Just look at my sapphire water! How could you think anything’s wrong?_ ”

“Yeah, Blake.” Yang said, dreamily, “How could you think anything’s off here?”

“I don’t know…” Blake mused, “I guess I just spoke without thinking…”

The breeze continued to carry past them, picking up Blake’s raven and Yang’s golden tresses and playing with them almost impishly. Neither woman seemed to notice the haze they had fallen into, ignoring the tickle of their hair on their faces, and simply stared off into the sapphire waters. They now had a mesmerized look about them. Lavender and golden eyes both were glazed over, looking off into the distance without really seeing.

The sun burned as bright and strong overhead as it ever had, bringing the same consistent sweat to their flesh that the strong breeze now lapped away. Its heat and light were far and away from their minds, however, as both became further and further lost in that softly present whisper.

“ _It’s really very nice down here, you know._ ”

“I’ll bet it is, Yang…” Blake whispered drearily.

“You said it, Blake…” Yang replied in much the same tone.

“ _It’s perfect down here, in my cool, blue water, to get away from that nasty ole sun!_ ”

Yang inhaled deeply, unnoticed by her partner, and sighed with a longing sort of moroseness.

“It sure looks good!” she agreed heartily, still retaining a dreamy dullness to her voice. Blake said nothing, just slowly bobbed her head up and down with a lazy smile across her pursed lips.

“ _The water’s soft, you know? Why not jump on in, hm? It won’t hurt you…_ ”

Yang stood first, her eyes now sporting a very faint glow of blue, and took a step toward the edge of the drop.

 

Λ

 

The masked man’s lips parted in a sick and gruesome grin. He still sat upon his perch, cross-legged atop the tallest of those snowy-white towers in the midst of the ruined city, watching with careful interest and listening to the faint whisper that his pursuers heard but did not hear. Their sleepy trance, gradually and unwittingly slipped into with the same ease one might don a favorite garment, was the moment he’d been waiting for.

Now, as he sat and watched, the grin of his discolored gums and long-decayed teeth grew ever wider. His lips parted fully and he opened his jaw, spreading his sickly teeth apart into a wide and mad smile. Along with this he began a veritable guffaw of his unearthly laughter, clutching his stomach and rocking back on the domed top of his perch.

“OH YES!” he shouted to the cloudless sky, where the sun kept its unmoving vigil, “COME, LADIES, COME!”

This short discourse, yelled freely and wildly toward the open heavens, was followed by another round of his raucous belly-laughter. He had to hold himself tight and strain his legs forward to keep from simply rolling off the top of the tower. Somewhere beneath him, bats stirred and madly fled through the empty halls of the city, disturbed from their rest by the demonic noise that was the masked man’s laugh. The legion flutter of their wings echoed through the halls and out the windows of the tower beneath him, mixing with his laughter to create a truly hellish din.

The masked man sat up, cloudy tears streaming from the eyes beneath his now askew wooden visage. He still held his stomach, but had managed to pull the raucous outburst mostly under control. He stood when he was able, some few minutes later, and pulled the mask from his face entirely.

With hood down and mask off, he raised his arms to the sky and shouted.

“Come, lionesses! Come and show me your resolve!”

Three years now, and almost done. Three long years of this game, one of the longest stretches that he’d ever done the dance, and so close at hand was his finish. He could hardly believe it, standing there and watching the two from his far off vantage. They were edging closer and closer, readying themselves, unwittingly, to meet the last of his challenges for them.

So close now, yet still so far off he could barely contain himself.

“How are they, huh?!” he shouted madly heavenward, “Have I done well?! Have I, you sadistic ole hermit?!”

He stood that way for a time; head tilted back, eyes upturned and arms pointed straight to the sky in a V shape. Drool dribbled from the left corner of his mouth, seeping slowly down his cheek in a stinking mass. He stared intently into the bright orb of burning gas in the sky, looking past it and on into the darkness of the cosmos. Then, after the passage of something between ten minutes and an hour, he dropped his arms to his side and let his head roll forward.

With one swift motion of each hand, he placed the mask back upon his face and pulled the hood of his cloak up once more.

“Come on, you limey gits, and get a move on…” he muttered coarsely under his fetid breath, “I don’t have all eternity here!”

The comedy of the statement, in that he did have all of eternity, was not enough to still the gradual souring of his mood. The sensation he had been feeling since first taking his perch atop the tower, the same that he earnestly believed had no right to crop up this time around, had only grown stronger while he waited and watched. Now, it had fully become a present and insistent emotion, burning and throbbing in the lifeless cavity beneath his bosom. It only continued to grow stronger as he stood there, ever watching and ever waiting.

While the masked man awaited his prey’s final passage or failure, _pity_ , of all blasted things, pumped strongly through his un-beating heart.

 

Ψ

 

“YANG!!”

The shout didn’t register to the blonde as she fell. Her ears were deaf and her eyes blind, though both sensory organs still gave her mind sight and sound. It was the woman’s mind, in fact, that simply refused to acknowledge these things. Neither the blur of ochre earth that ran past her gaze nor the frenzied whoosh of the wind that beat her face. Nay, for her head was filled with the soft whisper that had seemed to come from the breeze atop the precipice; a sound she was now sure came from the sapphire mirror drawing ever closer to her.

The one who shouted, whose mind was hers once more after witnessing her partner’s all but suicidal gesture, wasted not a moment. She came out of the haze after chancing to look Yang’s way, just in time to see her walk oh-so-naturally off the edge, and spared only time enough for one shout. After that, the raven-headed faunus leapt forward and over the edge as well.

Her mind was only on catching the plummeting blonde. Whatever came next would come as it wished.

Both fell quickly toward the still surface of sapphire-blue beneath. It drew closer and closer as they went, coming upon them much quicker than Blake was sure it should. These thoughts had to wait, however, and were utterly ignored as the woman closed her stance to catch the enthralled blonde.

Blake pulled her arms tightly to her sides and balled her fists, leaning forward as best as she could manage. She had to squint her eyes to combat the rushing wind, briefly remembering and wishing she had donned the goggles she hoped still hung from her scabbard.

Much to Blake’s passing relief, her motions were paying off. She quickly began to fall faster than the blonde and managed to get in front of her. Once she had a decent lead, the faunus reached behind herself and clutched the curved handle of her revolver with her right hand. The left she thrust out while twisting around to face the blonde. When Blake had come around to face her, she could see the slack of Yang’s face and was briefly dismayed.

She put it out of her mind and made her play.

With a flick of her wrist and a titanic effort, she pulled the revolver free and slung it toward the ochre wall of the bowl. As she did this, Blake squeezed the handle with her ring and pointer fingers, depressing the two small buttons beneath each and eliciting a cracking pop from the weapon. The handle remained in her tight grip while the barrel, blade and cylinder all flew off for the wall with a bang.

Without waiting to see if her aim had been true, Blake curled her left arm and spread her legs, braking her descent hard and catching the entranced blonde in nearly the same moment. Both women shouted in pain; Yang for the sudden jolt through her gut and Blake for the arm that was wrested free of its socket. Yet, through the pain, Blake felt a surge of relief as her partner’s weight filled her grip.

A moment later, just when the faunus began to wonder if her revolver had found its mark, the chord coming from the handle pulled taut and sent both women hurdling toward the ochre wall. Whether for better or for worse, neither could have said at that precise moment. All either knew, Yang in her gradually receding daze and Blake in her freshly blooming pain, was that their descent had taken a sudden and drastic change in direction.

The wall was now coming to them quicker than the fall had been bringing the sapphire water to meet them.

“Blake, hold on tight!” Yang shouted, unusually clear despite the rush of the wind against them.

Blake reacted instinctively, as she had only heard her partner on a somewhat subconscious level, and squeezed the handle as tight as her hand would allow. The wall continued to close in, now only some ten feet from them perhaps, when a sudden and loud crack pierced the faunus’ sensitive ears. She didn’t have to look down to know what had happened.

Once her trance had been broken by the sudden pain in her abdomen, caused by Blake’s less than gentle catch, Yang was quick to make four out of two and two. Her lavenders had opened wide and fast, taking in the quickly approaching surface of the water and the passing of ochre. When she felt their descent change direction, suddenly and violently, the blonde wasted not a moment in her response.

Yang had slipped her hands deftly into the cesti on her hips and yanked them free of their hooks. Once the things had settled in place, she took quick and careful aim and let them loose at the ochre wall that quickly approached.

All of this transpired in only a minute or less, serving as a powerful testament to the prowess of the two. Once all was said and done, the blast from Yang’s cesti stopped their flight toward the wall and pulled Blake’s revolver free from the smooth earthen surface. Now only some few hundred feet from the sapphire surface of the water, both women plummeted in a freefall. Both found out, upon hitting that deep blue surface, that the whisper in the breeze had not lied…

The sapphire water was unusually soft, indeed.

 

Ψ

 

There was no splash, no violent displacement of water in an upward rush of countless droplets. No massive spray of sapphire-blue, breaking into countless trillions of tiny droplets and becoming a mist, issued forth. No loud clap of flesh meeting water, traveling at breakneck speed, sounded off. Nothing told of their impact, save for a delicate and almost inaudible slurp as the mirror-like surface parted to accept the two women into its depths.

And in they did go, with little thought spared as the water closed back overtop of them. Yang first, followed swiftly by Blake. Down and down into the sapphire mirror, which accepted them much like the air they had only just left.

There was an odd sensation of departure as this occurred, much like the feeling of fading into slumber under an anesthetic. Both women were stricken with it, sans the sleep, and both were nauseated by its unreality. Yet, thankfully, the odd sensation left as quickly as it came, quitting their consciousness and giving the two over to a more understandable sensation shortly thereafter. This one, in contrast to most of the last few days, felt real and sensible.

Blake and Yang both were suddenly made aware, as the brief vertigo-like sense of unreality left them, that, despite the air-like texture of the water, they could not breathe.

“ _Go on. Open your mouths and fill your lungs. Be at one and be at peace with my sapphire depths…_ ”

And this time, they heard it true. Loud and clear as a crack of thunder in a lightning-riddled storm. They felt it also as the voice, which had been a soft and nearly unnoticed whisper on the precipice, came like the torrent of a tropical storm all around them. It shuddered them to the core and brought both from their torpor, pulling their senses to the here and now.

Yang’s eyes flicked open at once, as did Blake’s in short succession, and both were alarmed to see what was more of a void-like blackness all around them than an open expanse of deep blue water. Vertigo settled in again, this time coming from the realization that they could not tell direction in this blackness, and both began to panic for a second time this day.

Blake’s eyes widened until they seemed they would pop from their sockets, her pupils closing to tiny pinpricks as her heart began to race. The raven-headed faunus started to kick, pushing herself in any direction she could manage as her mind began to empty. That primal sense she’d felt earlier, when gazing upon the vast lake before the whisper had settled in, was now the sole occupant of her head.

After all, cats are rather un-fond of water.

Yang was panicking as well, though, by comparison, to a much lesser and more controlled degree. For the blonde, the present surroundings were alarming but not something she found immediately insurmountable. With that sense of surety, a most familiar feeling began to wrap itself around Yang. It seeped into her breast and melted over her mind, pulling the woman together in a way nothing else, sans a few important individuals, could do.

The cold feeling of battle-lust crept into and over Yang, spurring the woman quickly to action. Her lavender eyes began to glow a vibrant red and her heart picked up its pace, beating hard and quick but not erratically as her faunus partner’s now did. The blonde peered through the black depths as much as she could, looking quickly for any small indicator she could find to tell her what was what.

When the choking lack of air started to settle fully upon Yang’s lungs, she got exactly what she was looking for. Her diaphragm hitched subconsciously and her lungs sputtered a gust of held breath into the blackness, releasing a torrent of bubbles from her briefly parted lips. She watched, with a sudden notion of possibility, as the bubbles rose toward her chin.

Wasting not a moment, and hoping that at least _something_ still made sense in this place, Yang kicked her legs and spun herself around. With a corrected posture, head facing what she hoped was up, the woman swam for where she felt her partner must be. No senses told her the way, she could neither see nor feel nor hear the faunus’ struggle, but she pressed in her chosen direction all the same. With her left hand reaching into the blackness, Yang was relived to feel one of Blake’s feet kick her palm.

Yang grabbed hard and tight, wrapping her fingers around the faunus’ boot, and turned her kicks downward. In only a few more moments, both were headed quickly for the water’s surface. Neither noticed the fin that passed only inches beneath them as they broke into the blinding light of midday once again.

Blake’s raven locks broke the surface first, pushed ahead by her blonde partner. Yang followed suit shortly after, holding and supporting the sputtering faunus as she tread the eerie water. Both gasped for air in greedy gusts and coughs, their lungs burning and their heads swimming much as their bodies.

“Blake… can you hear me?!” Yang shouted between hitches and gasps.

“Yeah, I hear you.” Blake responded, her own breath short and staggered.

Yang could see, with a small pang of dismay, that her partner was far from alright. The woman shivered violently in her arm’s grip and her head seemed to be on a swivel. Her golden eyes darted hither and thither, perhaps from panic or perhaps in actual search, and her heart beat hard in her ribs. Yang could feel the stressed organ beneath one of the faunus’ small breasts, thumping hard into her palm.

“Well… we found a way down, at least.” Yang said with a brief, snorted laugh.

“Great…” said Blake, “We’re in, now how do we get _out_?!”

Yang set her own head to swivel, her own once more lavender eyes to travel, while Blake continued her panicky glances. Both scanned the entirety of their surroundings in search of any sort of break in the endless blue. Neither saw the fin, tall and curved like a sail, pop through the surface behind them. It was there and gone in only a moment, as if playing peek-a-boo with the women.

“Well… shit.” Yang cursed breathlessly, her lungs only just beginning to settle. She could feel the goosebumps rise on her partner’s flesh, where the faunus’ arm met the crook of her own, as something caught Blake’s eye.

“Yang…” Blake whispered weakly, hoarsely, sounding like a rusted door hinge.

“What?” Yang responded absentmindedly, still searching the horizon.

Nothing else came from Blake’s lips once it happened. The poor thing’s heart nearly stopped altogether. Yang turned her gaze toward the woman only just in time to witness it herself, and her own heart nearly gave up the ghost as well.

With a roaring splash, entirely opposite the reaction given when the women had plummeted into the sapphire water, a great and wide-open mouth pierced the surface. It was massive, perhaps stretching eight feet from pointed tooth on bottom to pointed tooth on top, and was lined from end to end with teeth. They were shaped like crude arrowheads, jagged and razor-sharp and wholly evil to look upon.

The skin of the beast was as black as sin, covered predominately upon the head with jutting mounds of white bone-like armor. They only saw the eyes in passing as the thing sailed over them, glowing red as hate and fiery brimstone. On its bottom protruded two more fins at the middle and one tiny bulge of a fin just before the tail, the first two pointing diagonally downward while the third was faced straight down. The tail held a large crescent of a fin, the top part being nearly thrice the length of the bottom.

It hit the water behind them and, with another alarmingly titanic splash, raced back into the blindingly blue depths.

“Fuck this!” Blake shouted. She began to wriggle and thrash violently in Yang’s arm, abandoning almost all pretext of sanity in her panic.

 

Λ

 

The masked man’s lips parted into another wicked smile. His eyes were firmly affixed to the scene playing out beneath his watch. The primeval’s surface-break was magnificent, nearly beyond any words he could muster to mind, and he was enjoying every last moment of the women’s shared terror. Basyl might have failed to properly administer the test, and that was most regrettable indeed, but he was growing ever more certain that this one would do as bid just fine.

He cackled, loud and wild with mouth wide open, and had to steady himself once more to avoid rolling off the top of the tower. It was just too much, watching the cat-like one flail like a fish drowning in air. He was certain his stomach would split open if he continued to watch, but continue he would even if it did. He had to be certain, after all, that these could stand the last storm and clear the final hurdle.

“What’s a little, toothy fishy next to me, eh!?” he shouted between caws and cackles, “Come on, ladies! What’s a little, toothy fish! You’ve fled after me, from city to forest and through snow and wastes!”

He stopped his rant and hurled into another round of loud cackling. His milky eyes were now streaming the putrid substance that passed for his tears. A few more moments of this and he eventually managed to cease, at least somewhat, and straighten himself up where he sat.

“Oh, this is going to get very good very quick…” he mused.

He reached into his cloak and pulled out his ancient tobacco pouch, deftly removing and assembling one of his favorite vices. Once finished, he pulled out a match and put the little purse back in its hidey-hole. His milky eyes flickered brightly in the flame when he struck it, despite the powerful light of day from above, and with a few puffs the masked man filled his lungs with acrid smoke. He dragged hard, inhaling deeply and relishing each note of flavor.

“Time to set up the party…” he said, releasing the smoke in a cloud of green and grey.

Cigarette in hand, he stood and walked to the tower’s edge. He carelessly stuck one foot out and leaned forward, falling from the tower like a stone. He landed only thirty or so yards below his former perch, thudding loud as his feet found the marble surface of one of the tower’s many balconies.

The masked man stood and looked toward the commotion still raging in the sapphire waters, now a raging sea of fear and turmoil. His second choice was indeed doing well.

“See you gals soon.” He said with a thick drawl before turning and disappearing into the tower’s darkness.

 

Ψ

 

They were both frantic now. Frightened, panicked and thoroughly uprooted by this newest development. Had either woman tried, which, in their panic, neither bothered to, they could not have made any sense of their present predicament.

Here they were, in the most beautiful water they had ever laid eyes on. Here they were, in the midst of a lake, the size of which they could scarcely fathom, at the bottom of a gigantic bowl of ochre earth. Here they were, in the furthest reaches of what both assumed was still Vacuo, outside the scope of even the most detailed of maps known to Remnant.

And, of all things, a Grimm looking uncannily like a gargantuan shark was playing hide-and-seek with them.

Yang’s heart beat with a fire she had not known in some time. Her mind raced along with it and sweat was now pouring from her brow, despite the cooling chill of the water. She put every bit of might she had into holding onto her partner, who now squirmed violently in her grip as though the very world were ending. To Blake, who thrashed around without thought or reason, it may as well have been.

Blake was a faunus, and a proud one at that. Her feline traits gave her an edge over most humans, and she found no shame to her status. Enhanced sight in the dark, sensitive hearing and an almost preternatural reaction speed; all were part of her racial heritage and close relation to the animal after which she took. However, with these also came a few weaknesses, the worst of which was presently facing her for the first time in memory.

Stuck in a bottomless lake with a toothy Fish-Grimm circling and leaping over them, Blake now realized just how much she, like her animalistic nature dictated, utterly despised the water.

“Blake, stop struggling!” she could hear Yang plea, but it was as though far away and through muddy water. Her mind picked it up and registered the sound, but her body refused any cease to its frantic actions.

“ _No, do please struggle. I like my food lively…_ ”

The voice rumbled into them, much as Basyl’s had, and both began to further crumble. The massive Grimm leapt from the water and sailed over them again, spurring Blake’s panic on in a most fantastic fashion. Yang continued to hold, continued to tread water desperately, but was quickly losing the struggle.

When the dorsal fin pierced the sapphire surface again, this time headed straight for the panicking duo, Blake thought her heart _had_ stopped for a moment. Her chest tightened and her hands squeezed uncontrollably. In that moment, however, a relieving feeling found the faunus. As her right hand squeezed, she registered the hard feel of her revolver’s handle in her palm. She hadn’t even considered that she might have dropped it during their dip into the lake, but now found herself beyond relieved to know it was there.

Yang felt her partner stop and go limp and, for a horrifying few seconds, thought the woman might have simply died of shock in her grasp. She opened her mouth to yell at her, for a reason the blonde wasn’t entirely sure of, but was stopped when she saw the faunus’ massive weapon break the water’s surface.

“Yang, hold onto me as tight as you can…” Blake said commandingly, her senses largely restored. Her heart still thundered in her chest, as Yang could clearly feel, but her mind had gotten ahold of itself at least somewhat.

The dorsal was fast approaching, tearing a massive valley in the sapphire water as it came, and Blake wanted little more than to be anywhere but there at that very moment. Truthfully, there was nowhere the woman would have snubbed her nose at so long as it was not this wretched lake. She took careful aim and, without considering the fact that her weapon had been submerged in water, squeezed the trigger slowly and surely.

Only a metallic click greeted her for her troubles.

“ _I don’t think your weapon likes my home, little girl. Perhaps your Dust does not make you as all-powerful as you believed?_ ”

Blake’s heart sank like a stone. The fin was only a handful of yards from them now, perhaps seven at the most, and closing fast. Her only real hope had petered out like the dust in her revolver’s bullets, this confirmed by several more metallic clicks as she frantically squeezed the trigger. Once she had tried each chamber some three times, Blake’s arm went limp and she very nearly dropped the thing into the sapphire depths. A feeling of warmth and strength stopped this, though, and pulled the despondent faunus’ arm to her chest.

Blake looked around to see Yang’s blazing eyes, once more the glowing red of battle-lust, and her heart skipped a few beats. Not for fear this time, but for vaguely rekindled hope.

“Your turn to hold on tight, Miss Kitty.” Yang said, soothing and strong.

Blake wanted to ask, and might have if given more than a fraction of a moment, but Yang’s action stopped any attempt she might have made. The blonde kicked hard toward her right, sailing both of them a yard or so left, and reached out her right hand. The dorsal flew by, and Yang briefly felt the open maw passing below the surface. She grabbed onto the scaly black surface of the fin as it went, nearly pulling her arm from its socket in the process, and both women began to sail through the water.

Blake’s eyes had only a moment to register a white speck in the distance, somewhere around what had to be the center of the massive lake, before both were pulled under the surface.

 

Ψ

 

The water’s soft caress was first to greet the women as they plunged into the depths. Next came the solid and powerful glow of the Grimm’s eyes, a red radiance that pierced the dark like a spotlight. It lit their surroundings with an odd hue, turning the blackness into a bright purple up to some ten yards away.

The primeval swam powerfully and fast, pulling both deeper and deeper into the lake’s depths. The women began to assure themselves that the end was fast approaching, either from drowning or from being eaten, and this was not entirely an unreasonable assumption. Escape seemed nigh impossible, as did the quickly vanishing prospect of possible triumph over the beast. With this in mind, Yang simply held on for dear life, squeezing the fin with her right hand while squeezing her partner with her left arm.

Both women’s lungs began to burn as the thing dragged them deeper and deeper.

“ _Why do you pursue him?_ ” came the voice, now as powerful as if a god were speaking to them. It pounded into their heads and further blurred their already skewed vision.

“ _You grasp as fervently to my fin as you chase after that rotting one. Why, though, do you persist? What do you believe there is to gain for it?_ ”

Of course, neither woman could answer the thing with their words. They were completely out of their natural element, though the Grimm seemed not to care overmuch on this. Its insistent voice, the echo of a god by any other description, only continued to prod them as it dragged them to what was surely their watery doom.

“ _He baits both of you, as assured of his success as you are of your own. He waits in the hallowed city, patient and cunning, for your clumsy approach to find him. That rotting thing you think is a man is closer than you could fathom, little girls, and he waits patiently to dash you against the stones._ ”

As it prattled on, Yang was certain she could see a light gradually strengthening in front of them. At first she believed it to be the primeval Grimm’s eyes, glowing ever brighter for some unknown reason. But the light grew stronger and stronger, larger and larger, and the blonde knew that it must be something else. She could scarcely tell distance, but it was clear that the light was further from them than the Grimm’s snout.

“ _I suppose I won’t get to eat you after all…_ ” the voice seemed to echo a sigh in their heads.

It was all so strange, so very surreal and incomprehensible, what came next. Blake’s mind had all but shut down as they descended, if that was what actually occurred, and Yang was on the verge of following suit as her vision began to darken. She clutched tightly with both limbs, hugging the unconscious faunus to her as she put the last of her strength into holding onto the dorsal fin. Therefore, with her own consciousness quickly flagging, Yang only barely noticed when the three of them broke the water’s surface.

In only a moment, they went from the blackest depths of the lakebed, which the blonde was sure was the Grimm’s intended destination, to the bright light of day and open air. The massive, shark-like primeval burst forth from the placid waters and sailed some twenty yards into the sky. With the sun blinding what little was left of her sight, Yang barely noticed the thing buck and twist to fling them off of it. Her failing grip released immediately, pulled free by the centrifugal force, and both women flew toward something green in the distance.

They landed hard, hard enough to hurt, and skidded a good forty feet on the verdant grass. The impact knocked Yang out of her swoon and back into reality. Blake, while still mostly out of it, turned over and began to cough up the water she had swallowed. Only a few moments had stood between the faunus and a watery grave.

Yang only laid where she was, on her back with her arms and legs splayed out like a star. Her bleary eyes, back to their lavender shade once more, blinked repeatedly and stared into the ball of brightness hanging above them. Her lungs burned while rapidly filling with air, a fresh and cool sort she hadn’t known for months. Her muscles ached and her head throbbed. She could no longer feel her hands, and only faintly hoped her cesti still rested upon them.

“ _I suppose it is not my charge to say, but I believe you both passed. At least somewhat…_ ” came the voice from the depths, now only a whisper once again, “ _If your lives truly mean so little, go and find your rotting quarry. I’d ask you both hop back in and give me a snack, but I can see you’re meant for more than my empty gut._ ”

It stopped and Yang began to sit up in the brief silence. Her abs were already protesting, almost before she had even moved, but the blonde pushed through. Once upright, she took a moment to see her surroundings.

They were now in the midst of some massive savannah, the likes of which she was sure should not exist in the wastes of Vacuo. The verdant grass stretched out all around, stopping only some twenty yards in front of her where it broke off into the sapphire lake. There, another sheer drop met the edge of the grasses and went a good ten feet down into the vibrant water below.

“ _Look for the snowy-white city, hollowed-out marble ghost that it now is, and find your finality. He waits there for you both, on a throne of skulls. As for me, I go back to my slumber…_ ”

After that, the whisper and the eerie presence receded, leaving Yang to tend to her partner as it left.

 

Ϯ

 

Hours must have passed, surely, since the massive aquatic Grimm tossed the women onto the savannah. After Yang tended to her partner, who still slept on the soft grass, the blonde would have sworn that another seven or so hours had gone by before she saw the faunus’ golden eyes flutter open. It was beyond unsettling, for this very reason, that the sun seemed to have budged not a single inch in the interim.

“Wakey wakey, Blakey.” Yang cooed in a singsong voice, trying to put the unnerving thought from her mind.

Blake blinked several times in rapid succession, squinting in pain against the bright glare of the sun. She raised one shaky arm and draped it over her eyes, trying to shield them from that petulant brightness.

“Are we… alive?” she muttered weakly.

“Looks like it.”

“What about that giant shark?”

Yang turned her lavenders toward the drop of the savannah, where the green gave way sharply into an infinite blue, and seemed to search for a moment. The water was still and undisturbed, making a titanic sapphire mirror once more. No sign of their tormentor.

“Gone…” Yang said, and sighed, “Back to wherever it came from.”

Blake sat up, wincing as the pain in her leg and shoulder blossomed like wildfire. She clutched the injured shoulder and hissed.

“I popped it back in while you were out. Sorry if I wasn’t gentle enough.”

Yang’s words were off, but Blake hardly noticed. Her body was practically on fire after their ordeal. Even still, however, she was quite happy to be done with it and out of the water again. Feline or not, the woman was none too fond of sharks just as most sentient beings. Still clutching her screaming shoulder, the faunus shivered at the thought.

“You re-bandaged my leg…” Blake murmured, more to herself than anything. Yang caught it all the same.

“Yeah.” The blonde said, her voice still sounding off somehow, “It’s not looking too good, either, but it should be fine if we can get you some help.”

“Oh?” Blake said with a scoff, “And how would we go about that?”

Yang, who had affixed her gaze to the faunus’, looked down and away. The words stood on the tip of her tongue, but she somehow daren’t say them. Blake knew what they were, without having to hear them, and so answered despite the blonde’s silence.

“We’re not turning back, Yang.” Blake said, low and commandingly, “We’ve come too far, and I don’t think we could even if we agreed to…”

Both looked up, nearly in unison, and took in their surroundings.

The endless verdant savannah, green grasses billowing lightly in the breeze that carried playfully through. The infinite stretch of the sapphire, mirror-like waters below the drop, seeming to simply swallow up the horizon. And, far off in the distance where neither could fully make it out, what looked like a series of stark-white spikes jutting proudly into the sky.

“We’re not in Vacuo anymore, are we?” Yang observed quietly.

“No, we’re not.” Blake answered, now rotating her shoulder slowly and wincing as it ground in the socket. She hoped it wouldn’t get in the way when they finally found him, the masked man she now had every intention of seeing torn to pieces. Not just for Adam, oh no, but for they themselves as well. For leading them into this nightmarish lunacy and trapping them.

Yang waited a moment, letting the cool breeze tousle her flowing tresses. It must have been quite some time indeed since they departed the lake, as the full six feet of her hair was nearly bone-dry, which only gave her further disquiet over the unmoving sun above. Its brightness and warmth were not unwelcome, tempered as the heat was with the decently strong breeze, but she almost wished it simply weren’t there all the same.

“Did you hear it anymore?” Blake asked, breaking Yang from her daze.

“Yeah…” the blonde responded idly.

“What did it say, then?”

Yang turned her face into the breeze, simply loving the cool and brisk sensation, and thought it over for a moment. In the end, she decided not to hide anything from the faunus. Why should she, after all? Love was supposed to be honest, if nothing else.

“Seek the city and beware the masked man.” Yang said, summing it up nicely while keeping her face in that soothing breeze.

 

Ψ

 

They rested for a time, both without much complaint over the waste, before deciding it best to move on again. Much to their surprise, the women found that their hunger had gone away. Simply vanished, as though they had never had a need to eat in their entire lives. It was unsettling, much as everything else about the place, but they pushed it from their minds and went on.

Witchy-work was fast approaching, though neither knew it by this term, and so too were they.

With each forced step, straining against the aches and pains that told them not all had gone awry, the women pushed on through the seemingly endless verdant grass. It was soft and giving under their feet, which came as a welcome break from the badland’s hardpan. No more did each step meet with all the resistance of a dusty boulder, kicking up clouds of choking desert dirt. Nay, for each footfall found purchase on what felt like soft down beneath their boots, caressing their feet despite the soles in between.

After what felt like a few hours of this forced march, wherein neither thirst nor hunger bothered either, the city began to come into view. Its haunted marble edifices, just as white as the purest snow, stretched up and up into the sky.

The towers were the first to come into sight. They were cylindrical and almost perfectly smooth, stretching so far into the sky that one would have to cock their head to see the tops. Even as far off as they were, the women were faced with this fact as they approached. Drawing closer still, step after achy step, they began to see the wall.

It stretched from one horizon to the other, with parapets shaped as though massive teeth every few yards. Bulwarks jutted forth from the unblemished surface at regular intervals, cutting structures shaped like a snowplow every hundred yards. Atop these, on the corner furthest from the wall, there flew banners of scarlet with gold borders. Each was decorated with a sigil depicting a white throne at the center.

The two continued their march, pushing on and on through the savannah, and began to truly understand the enormity of what they had come across.

Once upon it, surely some five hours further into their trek, the women could see that each bulwark, which stood only half the height of the full wall, must have been some forty stories at the least. Gargantuan, or perhaps even monolithic, to behold, though neither of these words could do the sight true justice.

Here they stopped, at the foot of the nearest bulwark, and simply stared up in silent awe.

Blake’s quivering voice was first to break the silence, asking, “What now?”

“I’m… not sure…” Yang whispered her response, which carried loud in the utter absence of the wind. Here, in the shadow of the bulwark and the wall behind it, the breeze that carried to them from the other side found no way through.

“Well, we’re not climbing that.” Blake said, voice still shaky.

“Right?”

So they stood and looked up, mouths slack in their awe. They might have done this for some time more, in fact, were it not for the interruption that snapped them out of their newest stupor.

“SO, THE LIONESSES COME?!” a voice shouted, strong enough to shake the ground beneath the women and rattle the teeth in their heads, “ALL THIS WAY THEY’VE TRAVELED, ONLY TO BE STUMPED BY A WALL? HA!”

A loose bit of the wall crumbled away from the top, plummeting in a cloud of white dust onto the women. It colored the women’s tresses with its stark whiteness, leaving Blake’s looking grey and Yang’s an almost silver color. Neither noticed this for they were far too preoccupied with clutching their hands over their ears in a vain attempt to halt the roar that now accosted them.

“WELL, COME ON NOW! I’M WAITING, GALS! LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED, WHY DON’T WE?!” the voice cried out before breaking off into a tittering madness that might have been laughter.

Then came a moment of respite from the voice’s assault. The ground continued to rumble and a few more bits of the wall broke free, crumbling to dust in their flight. The women were nearly crying under the residual force of it, their teeth clenched hard and their eyes squinted tightly shut to try and weather it.

“TICK-TOCK AND SNICKER-SNACK, PLIP-PLOP AND CLICKETY-CLACK! COME, LIONESSES! COME, REAP!”

With this final call, the voice receded with a thunderous clap. The ground heaved greatly and rippled like water, knocking both women flat on their rear. The city, too, shook as though an image on the sapphire lake’s surface; it bobbed and warbled with the last shout of the voice and a great crack ran through the bulwark before them.

Both looked heavenward and watched that crack grow, starting at the top of the white marble edifice and shooting down like black lightning. It split the structure perfectly in half until the last forty feet or so, where the crack veered and became two.  From there it formed an arch and, all of this in but a moment, the carved bit before them crumbled backward with an earsplitting roar.

_Come, reap…_

Lavender and golden eyes were bewildered, the mouths below utterly lost for words.

_Nothing ventured, nothing gained…_

The two stared in awe, hands still clasped tightly to their ears, as a way was cut before them.

_War never changes…_

“Yang…”

“Yeah?”

“There’s no turning back now, is there?”

The blonde swallowed hard. She was rather nonplussed that she could hear the whispering faunus as clear as day, despite the series of awfully loud noises they had just endured. She wet her lips to reply, for the dust had made them fearsome dry.

“No, Blake dear… No turning back now…” she said, almost sadly.

They sat there for a good half-hour, perplexed by all that had happened. More and more it seemed they had left the world they knew behind, forfeiting it for their pursuit of the masked man with nary a care given. The massive badland, the queer river and its unnatural tributaries, the titanic lake of sapphire and, now, this megalithic city that seemed to have no place in reality.

All of it sat heavy on their hearts and minds, but Yang was perhaps moved more than her partner. For, as she now began to believe, the Grimm in the lake had not lied to her. She now saw that the masked man must be baiting them, as the Grimm had claimed, and even more blatantly now since their retreat was no longer a feasible option.

For Blake, who had not been awake to hear the Grimm’s warning, the thought process was similar but fundamentally different. Her heart began to race and ache under the course that ran in her own mind, telling her more and more than this was some sort of massive trap from the get-go. Adam, poor ole Adam, had only been the spark to start her own fire, surely. And in her flame, her partner’s caught as well and was kindled by the suffering of a lover. Thus it started, and thus it went; thus it brought both to this ruined metropolis.

However it came to be, both women found their thoughts rounded to the same conclusion. The masked man had lead them here, by trickery of whatever sort, and now there was nowhere left to go but headlong into the unknown before them. This they both knew and this, in their own nigh-consecutively occurring time, they both accepted while peering into the blackness of the hole in the massive bulwark.

They stood and dusted themselves off, hearts and minds solidly set upon the same decision that had brought them here to begin with. They would find him, Yang for Blake and Blake for Adam, and they would enact what justice they could upon him. Maybe they would never see home again, maybe they would find themselves eternally trapped in this wrong place, maybe they might even fail; whatever came, they would stand true and see it to the end.

“Too far…” Yang whispered, reaching out her right hand.

“Too much…” Blake whispered, reaching out her left.

Their hands clasped, both wincing at the slight shoot of pain, and both women turned their gaze from the hole in the bulwark. They gazed into each other’s eyes, lavender locked to gold, and gave smiles that neither expected to see from the other. Despite the circumstances, Yang’s was wide and vivacious while Blake’s was uncharacteristically bright and vigorous.

“Bird and Bear.” Yang said.

“And Hare and Fish.” Blake said, surprising Yang.

They turned and walked on into the hole, the darkness reaching out to swallow them both the moment their feet crossed the rubble and landed on the marble tiles within. A cold breeze blew from the inside. It was unsettling and unnerving; it felt dead and wrong somehow. But they ignored it and simply placed step after step, penetrating ever further into the dark with hands held tight.

_Charyou Tree…_

 

Λ

 

The masked man had come quickly to the exact point he had planned to. He wasn’t sure how he knew it, as it felt uncannily familiar to him, but he _was_ sure that he did. He knew it, seemingly, from another time and another existence. He knew it was the place he had to lead them to, for his own sake as much as theirs. Also, somewhere deep down where he almost couldn’t feel it, he knew he belonged here. Disowned, disavowed and turned out once upon a time, yes perhaps, but he could simply feel that this place was home.

With that running through his head, the masked man crossed his legs and leaned against the back of the throne. He sat on the single feature in this otherwise empty room despite the wrongness he felt for doing so. It felt as though his presence alone on that throne was enough to corrupt it, to utterly ruin its intended purpose, but he gave hardly a wit. Leaning his head on his left fist, which shook for some reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, he let his mind wander as he waited.

There was only a little left to do by this point, and he could well feel such. They were here now; had he not just shouted a warm greeting to them? Yes, they were here and so was he. The pieces were set and the match already commenced. He would wait patiently while they fumbled in the dark, in this city which had once been only light, and watch the door at the far end of the room.

There were countless doors within the throne room. A veritable infinity of possible places to come from or to go to. But, of all the doors, he knew they would come from this one at the far end. He was not omnipotent, neither was his master for that matter, but he knew this much at least.

“Oh, such tediousness as is eternity; that my journey shouldst culminate to only more waiting…” he muttered, slipping into a form of speech he had not used in eons, “Oh, but faintly grasped ghost; to my breast I hold thee. That the end might come, unbidden or welcomed; I hold thee tightly...”

He watched and waited, tapping the armrest under his right hand with his bony fingers, as he felt the women draw ever closer.

 

Ψ

 

Their travel through the dark of the bulwark was odd, to say the least. Both expected twists and turns in some elaborate maze of a structure. What they found instead was a seemingly infinite stretch of dark, with nary an obstacle to halt their path. It was vast and straight, though neither could see to confirm this; they simply felt it with each step onward, their boot heels clapping loudly on the marble floor.

The trip through the bulwark’s dark was both short and long, encompassing a stretch of time that neither woman could quite sense to measure. However long it was, they found their way through in due time and eventually came across a door.

It was no ordinary door, this they spotted before coming fully upon it. It was a great, black and ugly thing of solid iron, recessed into a frame of glowing gold that looked like fiery brimstone. The frame gave off a powerful light that allowed them to spot the door from some decent ways away and acted as a beacon to guide them through the last leg of the dark.

The women approached it with no small amount of fear in their steps. Their boots continued to utter muted claps with each stride that brought them closer to the glow-framed iron door. Yang could feel Blake’s heart racing, the beat transmitted palpably through her partner’s palm, and knew her own must be doing the same.

Nothing about this place felt right. Nothing at all…

“Guess we’re gonna see what’s behind door number one, eh Blake?” Yang said tonelessly, her voice carrying off into the dark like a phantom. Blake’s only response was to squeeze the blonde’s hand even tighter, bringing a silent wince of pain to both their faces.

They closed in on the door, their breath hitching cold in their lungs. The glow was warm but the surrounding dark was grave and vicious. It pulled at them not unlike teeth, tearing into the two and only furthering the rising alarm within their bosom. When at last they were upon it, and Yang reached out to it with her other hand, both thought they might faint with the suspense.

“Open sesame…” Yang said, and Blake mimed silently in unison, as she wrapped her fingers around the pull-loop of iron. Just as black and uncannily cold, it felt beyond foreboding to her touch.

With a deep breath, Yang pulled and the door swung open with hardly a protest. It turned silently on its ancient hinges and felt entirely weightless. The light that came from behind it, starting as a miniscule crack before turning into a blinding curtain, seemed to wash away every negative feeling that had gripped them during their trek through the dark. It warmed them and wrapped them in its glow when the door was fully opened.

_And so passes the dark into light. As he said it, so it was. And he found it good…_

They could almost hear the whisper, but neither managed to latch onto it enough to understand the words that weren’t. All either woman realized was that they had passed through a veritable purgatory into some slice of what must be a portion of paradise, if only for the sensation it gave off alone.

They stepped through the doorway and into the bright light of day, immediately awed by the massive scope of the city stretched out before them. In a word, it was magnificent; in another, it was utterly tragic.

All around were great towers of purest white, stretching so high into the sky that they seemed to simply have no end at all. The walls of these behemoths were just as flat and smooth as could surely be possible, broken at perfectly set intervals by square holes that must have been windows. Here and there along the facades were busts of angelic proportions, depicting a number of vaguely human faces that instilled a sense of calm at a mere glance.

Under their feet as they exited the bulwark’s dark, the women found they stood on solid gold. It glinted back slivers of the sun overhead, teasing their faces with the soft radiance and perfect color. This street, which must have been worth enough to outright purchase the entirety of Remnant, stretched on and on in perfect proportion, level and smooth in a way that no living builder could accomplish.

Across the street of gold, opposite where the women stood in their awed torpor, a fountain was affixed to the closest of the gargantuan buildings. The fixture still spurted its sapphire waters in a beautiful twin arch, surely pulled from the lake in which the city rested, as though it weren’t untold millennia aged by this precise moment.

“By Dust…” Blake sighed in rapture.

“Holy shit…” Yang replied, equally affected.

_But look, and see. Look and know the ruin. Look around thee, and know_ sin _by its nature…_

Again they heard it but did not. Both stared on and around when the faint, almost nonexistent whisper found their ears again, and though they did not fully catch or comprehend it they did turn their gazes to ground level. There, the women saw a sight that nearly shattered them. Looking around themselves, not upon the street or in the height of the buildings, they saw what _truly_ filled the oddly empty metropolis.

They saw tombstones that littered the place like sand on a beach, and they knew it was not a metropolis at all; they knew, then and there, that they stood in the apotheosis of a necropolis.

 

Ψ

 

Blake openly wept and Yang only managed to hold it in by the grace of whatever had once made this place. Neither knew what so overcame them. The sight was not disturbing in its own right; they had seen many a massacred village done in by roving bands of Grimm. Yet, even still, their warrior’s hearts were oddly softened at the sight and moved to despondence. It was almost as though a sense of finality permeated the very reality of the place, however warped that reality might be, and it stole eerily well into them. It stole in and stole away their composure, leaving both a nearly ruined mess.

“What the _hell_?!” Blake shouted between sobs.

Yang stood silently this time, her eyes reddening as she fought desperately against the tears.

“Yang, what _is_ this place!?”

Still the blonde stood, flexing and clenching her fists tightly by her hooked cesti. The sense of rightness and comfort they had both found just outside the door was gone, replaced now with an absolute corruption and despair. It _felt_ insurmountable.

_And He cast them out, into the lake of fire and brimstone…_

“We’ve got to get moving, Blake.” Yang said at last.

_And He knew them no more, for they had known him not…_

The faunus looked up at the blonde from her crouched kneel on the golden street, eyes red as fire and streaked with countless tears. Yang was smiling in return, though it was plainly forced and undoubtedly painful. Her hand was held outstretched to the weeping faunus, and Blake took it gladly before trying for her feet.

_And He cast them from his sight, forever and ever…_

Yang pulled and Blake stood on unsteady feet, swaying slightly when her injured leg protested the movement. It had grown silent for a time, the wound under her clean bandages, and Blake had nearly forgotten it was there at all. Now, though, she knew it was and sorely wished it would just shove off.

Yang kept her grip on Blake’s hand, and the faunus was glad for that warmth, while both cast their gazes away from the seemingly infinite tombstones that littered the city all around them. Neither wanted to see them, neither wanted to even acknowledge them. So they simply looked anywhere else, hoping to chance upon something that might point them to the quarry they had chased into the rabbit hole.

_And so He left them, apart and alone and away from His gaze…_

Much to their relief, Blake happened to glance upon something vaguely familiar in the utterly unfamiliar place. It was only around three, mayhap even four feet tall, colored a vibrant blue and square in shape. On the side facing the street, it had a door with a window on it that clearly had no lock. She walked quickly to the familiar thing, pulling Yang with her, and both were surprised, and more than a little unsettled, by what they found.

Still sitting in the window of the box was a newspaper, surely beyond ancient but with no signs to indicate its many years. Blake leaned forward, and Yang looked over her shoulder as she did, to read the headline aloud.

“The seals are broke and the Lamb hath cried. Rejoice, ye faithful, and rally to Him. The time is come, the time is come, the time is come.” Blake droned, almost in a trance.

She felt Yang poke her shoulder and saw the woman point to a spot below the headline before she could turn. She looked and saw something more, something incredibly interesting and infinitely more encouraging. This, Blake read as well, in a livelier tone.

“Follow the streets numbered thusly to the Throne, and there lay thy gifted crowns upon His feet. As it is said, first Three then Seven then Twenty-and-Two and finally One; these shall place thee before Him.”

Both stood straight after that, feeling a new sense envelop them. They had something now, at least, no matter how small it might be. A hint was a hint was a hint, after all, and it placed them at least somewhat back on the masked man’s trail.

They looked around and saw that, indeed, the street was stamped at every intersection with a series of symbols. With hurried, almost frantic steps, the women hastened to the nearest intersection. They leapt over and bobbed around the tombstones in their path, doing their absolute best to ignore the unsettling things, and came upon it rather quickly.

Blake stared at it, as did Yang, and, though the symbols were beyond foreign to them, both found they could read them. This intersection was apparently the crossing of Three and Fourteen. Yang looked up first, her lavender gaze met quickly by Blake’s golden.

“Guess we follow the gold to the prize…” Yang said, “Feels kinda backwards, huh?”

Blake thought for a moment before answering. Her face made a comical series of twists and scrunches, as if someone had passed wind very near her and it was quite awful.

“Off we go, then.” Blake said at last, a tad worried and a tad relived, “It does feel off, but why worry about that now? We’re almost there, that much is clear, so we may as well get it over with.”

Yang smiled wide and proud at this, showing off all of her straight, white teeth in a beaming grin. She leaned in and quickly planted a kiss on the corner of Blake’s mouth, pulling back just as the blush began to creep into the faunus’ cheeks.

“For good luck.” Yang said very matter-of-factly, “Come on!”

Blake’s hand was gently touching the warmth of her cheek when Yang took hold of it, pulling the faunus along with her and dashing down what was apparently the Street of Three.

_But, in His infinite mercy and love, He mourned them overmuch…_

 

Ω

 

Far and away from this place, where time was almost absent and size meant next to nothing, a certain couple were busy studying over the coursework for a Business Economics class. Such a mundane thing it was, the two sitting side by side on a posh couch and poring over a thick book on the subject. So unimportant and meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Indeed, the relationship they did not yet realize even existed was at that very moment being nurtured, by their shared goals and concerns and camaraderie. But they were unknown at this very moment; they were nowhere near the minds of either woman, flaxen or raven-headed, as the two went about their mundane studies in their mundane lives.

And yet, both were, in this very moment, inexorably and inextricably bound up in the fate that now began to play out, woven of a fabric that had been created the moment the Throne was filled with its present occupant.

Neither woman knew this or even thought of such a thing while they followed the streets, tracing the path exactly as the newspaper had instructed. They ran and ran over the gold that wound through the city, laid in a perfect grid like no human or faunus could achieve, in the last leg of their mad pursuit. Both could feel him near, the man in the mask and cloak, just as he could feel them from his seat on the empty Throne.

They reached the last of them, perhaps an hour in or perhaps a year in. Neither woman could tell, nor particularly cared at this point, how much time had passed them by when they finally turned onto the Street of One. All that consumed either was the growing sense of resolution close at hand and the fleeting feeling of woe that seemed to choke the air as they went.

_And so, in His grief and regret, He looked upon them again…_

They could make out a structure somewhere at the end of the stretch of gold. Blake’s eyes were undoubtedly the better of the two, but even she could not make out how far off the structure was. For that matter, she could only barely tell that it was something akin to a palace. Were it not for the massive banners of scarlet, bordered clearly with gold visible even from their present distance, the faunus would not have been able to espy even such a small detail.

Knowing that, whatever it was, the place in the distance was their final stop, both women pushed their muscles to the limit and tore off down the Street of One. Their footfalls were loud and hard on the gold, leaving small imprints in the soft metal when they passed over it. Each step, each maddened jaunt, brought them ever closer, their lungs beginning to burn with each ragged breath. Eventually it became clearer that, much as Blake had surmised, they were approaching a truly magnificent palace of godly proportions.

_And so He looked, wishing only to find a single soul left free of corruption..._

The whisper seemed to grow stronger and stronger as the distance from the palace grew less and less, until at last the two stood before its glory and finally heard the whisper in full. It seemed to carry from within and without the palace at the same time, originating as if a breeze and a voice, one in the same, echoing through the very fabric of reality around them.

The women shivered inadvertently, and mostly unaware, when their eyes came to rest upon and take in the magnificent sight.

It was made of a stone the likes of which neither had ever imagined. It shimmered and shifted, constantly changing both color and texture, and seemed to defy any sort of categorization. The banners that hung from the top, stretching down nearly to the gold street below, were possessed of the same stark-white sigil as the ones on the bulwarks. A magnificent throne of purest white, surrounded by scarlet and bordered with gold.

They might have stared longer, might have taken in more of the sight, but for what came from within.

“YOU TWO RELISH IN WASTING MY TIME, DO YOU NOT?” called the voice that had greeted them at the wall, and subsequently opened a hole by which they entered, “COME, COME, MUST I WAIT OVERLONG? HAVE YOU NOT USED UP ENOUGH OF MY TIME WITH YOUR INCESSANT DALLYING?”

It shook the very gold on which they stood, rippling it like water disturbed by a stone, but did not set into them as it had earlier. While still powerful beyond reckoning, the voice was not crippling or incapacitating.

“THE DOOR IS UNLOCKED AND YOUR PRIZE IS WITHIN.” It went on, almost tauntingly, “COME, LIONESSES, AND HAVE YOUR RESOLUTION.”

They stood there, some forty yards, or perhaps four hundred, between them and the massive door of the palace. Between them and their prey, whom they had now chased to a place that both were certain no longer existed within Remnant, sat only a mammoth flight of stairs and a stretch of gold street. Yang turned her eyes to Blake, and Blake did the same. They locked gazes for the briefest of moments, sharing what would be their last romantic glance in this life, before stepping off toward the door.

They went and arrived in short time, crossing the last distance in this place where reality was rotting much as their prey, and pushed the heavy doors open. The stone giants, made of the same unknowable material as the rest of the palace, swung open with hardly a sound or semblance of resistance. What they saw within was inexplicable. It transcended both women’s understanding and utterly floored their minds as they crossed the threshold.

The massive doors clapped mutedly shut behind them, sealing off what was truly their last chance at turning back.

_And so, in time unimaginable, He came to find one such soul…_

 

ΛΨΩ

 

“And when He found that one, He wept for ages over the state of His children. Twisted and mangled and corrupted were their souls, and immeasurably more so their flesh, and for such He wept. He wept and wept and, after an eternity of mourning, decided to grant a final reprieve. He took the one soul He could find, nigh-free of blemish and rot, and gave it a single chance…”

The masked man’s voice carried throughout the room which was not a room, bouncing and reverberating. It twisted into a thousand-thousand other voices, becoming hollow imitations of legions of others; some the women knew, almost all they did not.

All this he did from the massive throne on which he sat. One leg was crossed over the other, his left ankle resting on his right knee, and his faced was leaned onto his left fist. With his right hand slung over the armrest, the masked man tapped the surface of the throne with blatant boredom. Beneath his mask a glow of eerie purple had overtaken his eyes, shining through the skull-sockets that served as the wooden visage’s eyeholes.

“Welcome, lionesses.” He said amicably, standing from his seat as a lord might stand to welcome honored guests. He stepped slowly from the dais on which the throne sat, his boots clacking loudly with each footfall, and gave a garish bow to the women once he reached the floor.

Right foot out and heel planted, with toes turned toward the ceiling; left foot with toes pointed out to his side; left hand swung out wide and right pressed loosely to his chest. In this manner he bowed, and addressed them once more.

“I’m glad to see you’ve finally come, finally caught me, Yang Xiao Long and Blake Belladonna.”

Both stepped back once in a bit of shock, flicking a quick glance to each other in their surprise, but held fast after. They were here and they were ready, as much so as they could be, and would neither show nor give any quarter.

“Now, now… Don’t think to fool me, dear lionesses…” he taunted, quitting his bow and resuming a straight stance, “I know your fear, and it is not unexpected. You stand in the empty throne room, before Old Man Death… Is a little fright such a strange thing in response?”

He ended this last bit with a quick, tittering cackle. Neither woman much cared for it, and both thought him more than a little crazy for what he’d just said. And yet, standing where they were and knowing where they had just come from, knowing what all they had been through in the last few days, both women were more than a little tempted to believe him by this point. This fact, more than anything else, frightened them greatly.

“Would you like answers, my lady-warriors, or shall we cut straight to our waltz?” he asked.

Yang spoke first, bidding her heart to slow and her mind to be true.

“What is all this about?” she asked in return, fighting vainly against the tremble in her voice, “What is this place and what are you, really?”

“Why, like I said. I’m Old Man Death, come to take your souls!” he replied, cackling wildly no sooner than he’d finished. It was clear that he found this all to be a wondrous joke, a sentiment his guests clearly cared little for.

“Oh, come now, Sunshine!” the masked man barked coldly and tauntingly, “Can’t have a little fun?”

Yang’s lavender eyes told him that no, in fact, she wished nothing of the sort from this situation. They told him that she wanted nothing short of his rotting head on a platter, of any make so long as it held well enough to lord about. To this, he giggled once again. A sick and ugly sound it was, but the masked man simply couldn’t help it.

“Fine, fine!” he cried out amiably, “If you won’t believe _my_ words, then believe _your_ eyes!”

During this terse and unfriendly exchange, Blake had held her silence while her partner took the lead. When she saw the masked man move, however, the faunus wasted not a moment in drawing her weapon and leaning into a ready stance. She could see that Yang was clearly unmoved herself, but readied all the same. No telling what the mad sod had in store.

After giving his declaration, the masked man took hold of the wooden visage upon his face with his right hand and the hood of his cloak with his left. In a swift, undoubtedly practiced motion, he removed both and exposed a grisly sight worse than either woman had ever seen.

The face that greeted them with its grotesque smile, if it could truly be called a face at all, was closer to that of a corpse than any semblance of something living. What flesh remained upon it was discolored and blatantly rotten, flaking and sore-ridden from chin to crown. The eyes sat in lidless sockets, milky things that looked blind as well as long dead. The lips that stretched away from the mouthful of decaying teeth did so with all the elasticity of a strip of dried out leather. The gums revealed beneath were nothing short of putrefied, looking as though they would release his few remaining teeth at the slightest puff of breath.

“Well, ladies? Doth my visage make thee excited?” he chittered cruelly, puffing a green cloud with each word. He laughed too, a horrid sound that sent the few gossamer strands on his head to flittering in the breezeless throne room.

Yang’s stomach began to turn circles almost the moment she saw it, and the woman quickly turned to retch at the floor. Her stomach was empty, thankfully, but this did little to stop the kneejerk reaction. Blake’s response was little different, the faunus leaning over and gripping her knees as she did the same. Just as her partner, and thankfully as well, her stomach had nothing to give for the retching.

“Oh, don’t be so rude! I’ve come to bring thee glad tidings, dear ladies! Wouldst thou not hear mine news?!” he roared, followed with another bout of his awful laughter.

“I’ve had about enough of your horseshit…” Yang said. She wiped the drool from her mouth, the only product of her dry heaves, and leveled her now-red-glowing eyes on the corpselike thing before them.

Blake, unnoticed by her partner, was beginning to flag. Her retching served only to aggravate the wound on her leg and, coupled with the sudden return of her hunger, sapped the will to fight from her. Yang was descending into her berserk state, eyes glowing brighter and hair beginning to radiate a vibrant yellow, when Blake dropped her revolver and fell to her knees. Yang turned to see what the racket was, but the man’s words interrupted her and dragged her attention back to him.

“Time is short and I’m done playing around.” He said, abandoning his air of false friendliness, “Now we dance and now I decide. Come, golden warrior. Come, chosen candidate…”

Now, he too took a ready stance, posturing himself clearly to fight.

“Defy me or be ground beneath my heel.” He all but whispered, launching off toward Yang in the blink of an eye.

She saw almost no motion when he sprung upon her; not the drawing of his weapon, a truly disturbing and unsettling device of death, nor the changing of his features. All Yang managed to comprehend was that the fight had begun, and she moved quick as she could manage to keep step with her death-waltz partner.

His face lost its ghoulish look, shedding the corpselike appearance and replacing it with what could only be described as the face of a devil. Horns sprouted from the crown of his soot-black skin, jutting out and curling upward. His eyes turned from milky to a bright orange, the newly apparent pupils elongating into catlike slits. His rotted teeth became fangs that popped through the flesh of his lips.

All this in the brief moment of his crossing the throne room floor, swinging his newly revealed weapon at the blonde with inhuman speed. She ducked, by some miracle, and barely managed a roll before he followed it up with a downward stroke. Yang narrowly avoided the blow that clove a massive gash in the stone floor.

“She has speed _and_ looks!” the devilish thing shouted, mixing a hellishly deep chortle in with his proclamation, “Maybe the blonde bitch _does_ have a chance after all! How do you like that, huh? You enjoying the show, ya old hermit!? I hope you are, cause I sure am!”

Yang watched him yell this at the ceiling, drawing her own weapons while the devil-thing seemed to be consumed with a brief bout of madness. She spared a glance toward Blake while the cesti deployed, crawling up her arms and latching into place, and was briefly dismayed to see the faunus writhing on the floor. When she flicked her red eyes back to the demonic thing, he wasn’t where she thought he stood.

“Remember, Yang… Don’t take your eye off the ball!” she heard her father’s voice call from only a few feet behind her. Without thinking, the woman pointed her fists behind herself and squeezed the triggers in her cesti harder than necessary, clenching her abs and throwing her weight forward in the same motion.

The things belched their fiery fury and sent her sprawling ass-over-teakettle. Yang barely managed to turn the wild motion into a series of deft flips at the last moment, once more avoiding a deadly swipe from the devilish man’s unnatural weapon. All in all, she made seven full flips before landing on her feet and turning to face him again.

“Not bad, not bad…” he said, clapping nonchalantly and taking garish steps toward her, “So, warmed up now? I thought I’d be a gentleman and let you stretch first, Sunshine, before the real romping got started.”

He sneered evilly at her, showing off the pearly-white fangs that now inhabited his mouth, before leaping into another mad dash. Yang finally managed a look at his weapon before he was upon her, sparing no time to marvel while she tried to assess it.

Much like her partner’s, it was a revolver with a sickle-blade attached beneath its barrel. However, the similarities ended there. This one was wrought of some abhorrently black metal with veins of red coursing all throughout it, glowing and pulsing with some sick semblance of life. The barrel was twisted and looked as though it couldn’t possibly fire. The sickle-blade beneath was much the same, pitted, scarred and cracked all across its curved length. Yang knew differently, but the pitiful thing looked as though it would have trouble cutting butter even if heated red-hot.

“PAY ATTENTION TO ME!!” the demonic thing screamed.

Yang ducked again, pulling her thoughts together, and tried for a counter once the blade passed safely over her blonde head. She didn’t see the knee coming, so fast was the demon’s movement, and was caught completely off-guard when it smashed hard into her teeth. She felt a number of them crack and shatter, a few of which were even tossed down her throat, and went sprawling almost immediately. The pain that bloomed in the wake of the strike was nothing short of divine.

She hit the ground and rolled, coming to rest only a few feet from her partner. The devilish man wasted little time in pressing his attack. He fell upon the wounded blonde in but the blink of an eye, barely missing her head with a savage stomp. Yang jerked her neck with not a moment to spare, saving herself from the fatal strike, but had no time to dodge the kick that came immediately after. It landed hard against her temple and very nearly did the trick.

She rolled again, this time onto and over her partner, and was nearly gone when she came to a final halt.

“Damn, damn, damn…” the demonic thing cursed, tutting loudly as he approached the blonde to deliver a coup de grace. Yang didn’t move, couldn’t had she wanted to, but merely laid on the cold stone floor, bleeding copiously from her ears and nose and eyes while he came upon her.

“You both had so much promise, blondie…” he said solemnly, crouching on his knees and grabbing a handful of her flaxen locks, “You had so much more than the cat, too, you know? Why’d you go and let me down, huh?”

He stood then, while Blake watched in waxing horror, and dragged Yang roughly to her knees with the fistful of hair he held. The faunus tried desperately to move, finding that no amount of effort would produce even the slightest budge in her taxed muscles.

She closed her eyes tight, wincing in pain and tears and utter despondence, as her soul very nearly gave up.

“I guess this is the end of the line, eh?” he said, leveling his orange eyes with Yang’s swollen reds, “Pity, but only the best can pass. Nothing personal, honestly, and maybe someday you’ll get another shot. Might have to be recycled a few thousand times, but just maybe…”

Blake willed her eyes open again, barely winning the inner fight, and watched the worst thing she could have imagined seeing. The demonic thing had his weapon pushed to Yang’s throat, as though the end were but a moment away, and his other hand wrapped around her chin. Yet, something seemed off.

The faunus watched, for she could do little else, and eventually realized that the demonic thing looked frozen. It was as though he were a statue, standing there and staring into her partner’s eyes like something truly incredible was to be found within. And, of even further note, his own eyes seemed to be possessed of a different glow while he did so, now a color entirely different from what he first gave off.

The demonic thing’s eyes, orange though they were, and orange though they had glowed until just a moment prior, now shined with a weak but clear silver light.

“You, then…” he muttered, and let Yang’s chin go. He let go of his odd weapon as well, which disappeared the moment it left his hand, and stood straight with his arms crossed over his scaly chest.

“Silver eyes, is it?”

The blonde still sat on her knees, not of her own volition but by some strange force that held her there, while the man let go of his demonic appearance and assumed the look of a corpse once more. Blake wanted to look away but would not allow herself to. She forced her eyes to stay affixed to the corpselike man, who she now thoroughly believed _was_ Death, and tried yet again to move. Anything at all, even if only enough to lift her head, and she would have been somewhat more satisfied.

Yet again, however, no movement came for her effort.

“Listen to me, pussycat.” Death muttered, reaching out with the last two fingers of his right hand, “It’s your turn to take center stage, alright? Not for long, oh no, but long enough…”

He trailed off as his fingers touched the blonde’s forehead, producing a strange glow of black at the point of contact. Blake could only barely make it out, but she was certain she saw an upside-down cross when the light receded and Death pulled his fingers away.

“Take a message for me, of everything you’ve seen and done in these last few months, and let that one with the silver eyes know. Think you can manage that, pussycat?”

He turned his rotting face to her and gave a sour grin.

“Maybe it wasn’t blondie here that I wanted after all…”

He stood then and lifted Yang almost effortlessly with one hand. He tossed her over his shoulder and turned toward Blake, crossing to her and doing the same. Then, with both women slung over his shoulders, which were oddly broad and powerful despite his corpselike appearance, he walked over to one of the thousands of doors that lined the throne room. He picked one, one that looked like a rickety bit of wood with a rusty old knob made of glazed iron, and kicked it roughly open.

Almost immediately, the desert sun burst into the throne room and filled it with heat and light. The dry, arid air followed suit shortly after and, though she wasn’t sure how, Blake recognized that the door must open onto the little ghost town they had passed through before entering the badlands. It had only been a few days into their pursuit of the masked man, or Death as she now acknowledged him, but it felt like eons since she had last glanced the arid ruination.

“Best of luck, pussycat.” Death said, almost companionably, “I guess I’ll have to figure out another way to get my message to her if you both die in the desert, so try not to, ok? You’ve both caused me plenty enough trouble as it is…”

With that last bit, Death threw both women through the door and into the deserted town on the edge of the great Vacuo Badlands.

 

Ω

 

Even until her dying day, Blake would never be able to recall exactly how she managed it. The whole ordeal after the unholy encounter with Death was like a waking dream; it stood somewhere between lucid sleep and drowsing consciousness. Yet, somehow, she did indeed manage. She did it, even if she would never truly know how.

The faunus woke in the dusty hardpan of the ghost town’s main street, only a few minutes after being tossed like a useless rag through the door. She felt her partner’s weight on top of her, and the vengeful return of her own ravenous hunger, while she took choking gasps of breath.

After a time, Blake had managed to force herself to set out toward civilization. Her mind was all but gone, a reaction to the ridiculous pain that racked her entire being. She trudged relentlessly, for nigh unto two straight days, with the deathly wounded blonde slung over her back. Blake carried her like this almost the entire way, just as they’d both been taught at Beacon to do for a wounded comrade, only resorting to dragging her partner when a small city at last came into view.

At the sight of it, the faunus lost nearly all that remained of her strength and vitality. Some sick perversion of relief crept into her and sapped it away, bringing her crashing to her knees. Yang rolled over top of her and onto the dusty hardpan, giving only a faint oomph to indicate she still lived.

Blake stared at her absently for a moment, there but not at the same time, before standing on shaky feet and grabbing the blonde’s left hand. She clasped it in both of hers and dragged the woman for the last few hundred yards, collapsing and passing out the moment they were spotted by a passing patrol.

The last thing she heard was the clamoring din of bewildered huntsman, none of which expected to find Blazing Sol or Nightshade in this godforsaken waste in such sorry condition.

Even as sleep took her, a sleep befitting the dead to boot, she still vaguely registered the feeling of being carried. Of course, in such sorry state as they were indeed in, the woman found herself hard-pressed to believe she wasn’t being spirited off to whatever came after this life. It seemed a more than possible likelihood, and so she merely said a brief plea to whatever might be that it wasn’t so. Blake drifted off with that thought, and would not awake again for nigh unto a week.

And when she did, a certain icy-eyed woman and a certain silver-eyed woman would be headed off for a night out; one that, unwittingly, she would utterly shatter with the news she had to deliver.


	8. Supernova

Chapter 7

Supernova

 

Ψ

 

She was nervous, oh so very nervous. It felt like the phone had been ringing for hours by now, but in all truth it had only rang twice. It was funny how such menial things could take on such an air of gravity if given the right situation. And right this was, indeed. Right enough to set Blake Belladonna, one huntress rarely given to flights of trivial terror or fancy, to fretting over a simple phone call.

It rang a third time and her grip tightened to almost that of vise. The nurse, watching her nervously from behind a simple, short counter, thought for sure the woman would break it. To her, the faunus holding the phone was one Nightshade, a true and terrifying legend that had come out of Beacon only some handful of years prior. To see such a woman in such a state was mortifying, to say the least.

“ _Hello?_ ” Said a feminine voice at last, after being picked up on the fourth ring.

Blake nearly dropped the phone, so strong was the jolt that played her muscles like a simple instrument. She did lose her grip a little, but managed to quickly catch and steady herself. She then brought the phone gently, almost fearfully, to her ear once more.

“H- Hi, I’m calling for Ruby…” She said, her tone striking somewhere between timid statement and frightful question.

“ _Yes, this is Ruby Rose._ ” The woman on the other end answered amicably. She sounded like she must be having an awful good time to Blake’s ear; excited, enamored and giddy all registered in the woman’s voice to the faunus’ sleek hearing.

But, could this really be Yang’s sister? It _had_ been some time since she’d met her, long enough for the woman to change perhaps, but this much so? The woman she was speaking to hardly sounded related to the Yang she knew, much less so like a sibling that had grown up alongside her.

Yet, that was neither here nor there.

“I called for Yang…” Blake began, but thought better of it, “I mean, I’m calling for Blazing Sol’s sister. I have a very important message for _that_ Ruby Rose… is this her?”

“ _Yeah,_ that _Ruby Rose. What about my sister?_ ”

Blake’s heart sank further, as though this were possible, at that very moment. Not only for the sudden pang of guilt at the change in the woman’s tone, but also for knowing what it was she had to say. Why her, she wondered. Why did this fall to her, of all things?

They had been so close, so very, damnably close. They had stood before that wretched _thing_ ; Gods only knew where. To the edge of oblivion had they followed the pied piper, and for what? For Adam? For each other?

That certainly got them far, or so Blake thought to herself. It got them here, banged up and with her relegated to delivering this news. Oh, the fickle strings of fate…

“Blazing Sol, she’s…” Blake tried to say, after pulling her thoughts back together, only to find her words lacking. So she took a deep breath and tried again.

“This is Nightshade, your sister’s partner. We’re at Saint Andrew’s on the east coast of Vacuo, by the sea.” She paused and grasped for the words, winning them only after a hard-fought few moments of inner anguish, “Your sister’s in bad shape. She took a nasty beating and it looks like… like she…”

Now, Blake was truly struggling. The thought of it all was tearing her apart on the inside, somehow even more so than when she had first awoken. As though that day, only two days ago now, were not bad enough. To wake after skirting the edge of the void, only to find yourself still in the thick of it.

How could things have ended up this way?

“She’s in critical but stable condition, Miss Rose. By the look of it, though… she won’t be for long.” Blake finished in a whisper.

By the Gods, it felt as though the call was dragging on half past forever. She knew, somewhere in the back of her more logical mind, that it must only have been barely over a minute or two. This was not the way it felt, however, and that was not so strange.

“ _That’s not possible…_ ” she heard the woman on the other line mutter.

There’s was another few moments of unbearable silence, which felt more like hours to Blake. By this point, she’d had nearly enough of it all. Her leg was aching, her head was swimming and, somewhere down the long, white hallway, her partner lay in a hospital bed on her way to cash her chips.

“ _You’re lying!_ ” the woman suddenly screamed, and Blake did let go of the phone for all of a moment, “ _You’re full of shit!_ ”

And there it was, in that very juvenile, pained outburst. Blake had snatched the phone from mid-air and pulled it close enough to hear it all. It was so much like Yang, she wanted to smile and cry and vomit, all at once. But instead, she let it sink in just a bit before replying.

“I wish it were a lie, Miss Rose…” Blake whispered into the receiver, and it was true. Oh, how true it was.

There was a sudden, loud crack on the line, from something transpiring on the other end, and the thing went dead. All at once the sound cut out and the receiver began to blare a monotonous busy tone.

Blake pulled it away from her ear and stared at it absentmindedly. She wasn’t entirely sure she had said what she meant to, but she had given it all she had to give at the least. Or so she would tell herself when the culmination finally came. There would be ups and downs between then and now, and the nigh-broken faunus would look back on this moment more than once in the interim, but still she would tell herself so.

And is this not, in essence, the ultimate folly of our kind as a whole? To delay and belittle the truth, until we have no recourse but to face it in full?

But this epiphany did not occur to Blake at that moment. All that went through her mind, then and there, was that it should be about time. To confirm this, she looked at a clock handily close by after carelessly placing the phone where she had gotten it. The nurse took the phone and put it on its receiver while Blake stared at the clock, looking eerily akin to a lost little girl in a woman’s body.

“Should I page doctor Holmes for you, Ma’am?” the nurse asked shyly.

“Yes, please do…” Blake replied. Her tone and expression both said the lights were on but, please, try your call again later.

The nurse ignored this, as much as one could that is, and did as bade.

Blake spent the next ten or so minutes in a daze. This was not very different from her typical state of mind in the last few days, but it was a tad deeper than usual. Her head simply swam with the sorts of thoughts that would drive most of us mad. Sights and sounds and fevered memories, almost all of them centered around one thing.

That awful man and his awful words.

_Maybe it wasn’t blondie here that I wanted after all…_

Coupled with the memories that seemed more like nightmarish dreams, it should come as little surprise that she would react so. The places they had traversed to find him. The things they had seen and done on the way. The place they finally caught him. Worst of all, the way he had overcome them so easily.

Yang seemed like little more than a broken doll before him…

“Gonna mope around all day, or did you actually have something important enough to drag me away from your partner?”

The voice was gravelly and slightly shaky, like a man who’s spent a little too much time drinking.

Blake looked up and saw the eyes she had come to know very well in these recent days. Faded blue and icy cold in their intensity, they looked more like the eyes of a trained killer than those of a man of medicine. Yet, in some odd way, they were calming to look at when coupled with his long, stubbly face that likely hadn’t known the touch of a razor in a few weeks.

“You, uh… got a little somethin…” the man said, with no hint of seriousness whatsoever, and motioned toward Blake’s chin.

She didn’t notice it at first, as she was still knee deep in her awful recollections. When the trail of spittle dripping from the corner of her mouth finally registered, however, she was quick to wipe it away. Almost as quick as the red that crept into her face.

“So, what is it this time, Nightshade?” the doctor asked, staring down at her whilst leaning against his jet-black cane.

After she regained herself, Blake looked back to him with little more than utter defeat in her golden stare.

“How is she?” she asked timidly, much unlike herself. Yes, she was a huntress of few and carefully chosen words, but she was _not_ a huntress of timid tone. Reserved, perhaps, but not timid.

She watched the doctor, one Mister Holmes, shift around on his cane. How he could stand the thing, she truly could not fathom. It had taken only seven good steps for Blake to decide that her crutches simply would not do. The idea of cane, even if she truly needed it, was given no ground at all.

After a few moments of his odd, shifting stance, Holmes limped over and took a seat beside her. She had come to favor this spot lately, situated under a line of large windows that faced the sea between Vacuo and Vale.

When he sat, he placed the cane on the empty stretch of space to his right. He then proceeded to stretch out almost comically, crackling like his joints were full of popcorn. Almost comical, indeed, but quite a bit nasty as well, as she didn’t much care for the sound of popping joints.

“Do you really want to know?” Holmes said at last, after interlacing his fingers and leaning his head onto his hands in a very relaxed manner.

Blake looked away, toward the floor, and sighed deeply.

“Yeah.”

Holmes did the same, sighing like a man who has just devoured a large meal, and closed his eyes. Rarely had he ever spoken the words he was about to, and never would he get used to it. He could hardly accept it himself, after all.

“I don’t know.” He said curtly.

 

Ђ

 

It had been a little over two hours now, and her demeanor had changed not one whit. This was beginning to make Weiss nervous, of all things.

At some point on the trip back, which brought to a screeching halt what was supposed to be an evening of frolic, dark clouds had gathered in the night sky. These spared little time before opening up and drenching the land beneath. Even now they beat on the heiress’ bedroom window, sounding like angry pebbles crashing onto a drum that has been drawn too taut.

The heiress herself was standing in her little kitchenette, hovering over the coffee machine she had gotten so much use out of in these last months. Between late night studies and tutoring sessions spent with her newest, and most unlikely, of friends, the little machine had certainly been put through its steps. This time, however, the brew within was not the bitter, black roast the heiress kept copious amounts of on hand.

This time it was tea.

She spared a glance toward her partner and saw exactly what she expected to. The woman sat in the same spot she’d been since they arrived. Weiss had barely the time to close her door and flip the lights on before the woman had made her way to the couch and huddled up upon it. There she’d stayed for nearly an hour, just as the heiress expected to see.

“Tea’s almost ready!” Weiss called out, only to be greeted with silence. Aside from the faint bubbling of the machine and the constant blare of the rain, silence had been the primary occupant of the room besides they themselves.

She turned back to the machine and watched it toil. Many things had sat heavy on both her mind and her heart in the last half-year, not the least of which was this gnawing feeling that only seemed to grow stronger in recent weeks. To most of mankind, who have spent some small amount of their lives learning the various intricacies of socialization and emotional interaction, it might seem quaint and contrived. Weiss, however, had been given neither the opportunity nor the time to become so jaded toward and familiar with this thing that now gnawed at her.

The rain continued to pelt heavily against her window and the machine’s bubbling continued to be the only other sound for the next several minutes it took to finish the task. When it was finally done, Weiss took two mugs from a nearby stand and filled them two-thirds full. Then, just before taking them to the couch, she decided to top her partner’s off a tad more.

“This should help calm your mind a little, Ruby.” Weiss said amiably, “It’s a special blend my father sends me every winter. Very warming, very soothing and very… well, good.”

Weiss nearly went to rambling before she caught herself. A tad embarrassed and a tad unnerved by her unusual bearing, she simply sat the cup down in front of her huddled partner and took a seat beside the woman. Not too close, of course, but the couch did feel awfully tiny all the same.

With her own cup steaming in her hands, which now shook just a tad for heavens knew why, Weiss tried to have a look at things in her usual manner. Calculating, logical and, most importantly, surgically detached. It was how she’d always done things, and it had served her well and taken her far indeed. She put things in order in her mind and gave them a good, hard look.

Thinking back to how Ruby had spoken of her sister, it seemed obvious that something was badly amiss. Furthermore, remembering the glances she would throw to that gaudy watch and the fanciful way she recalled those books, it seemed there could be no other conclusion. Yet, what could it be? What could go so far as to upset the seemingly unassailable, insurmountable and immutably bright demeanor of the woman?

Weiss was no fool and could certainly take a decent stab at a guess. Of course, as fate might have it, one simple glance at the huddled woman beside her, given only out of pure chance, saw every thought thrown from her mind quite fantastically.

“My God, Ruby…” Weiss whispered, shocked.

Ruby sat beside her, still huddled with knees hugged tightly to her chest. Now, though, she had looked up and was staring at the cup of tea on the table before her. Weiss could see just how far whatever it was, and it _must_ have been something truly terrible, had taken her into the pit.

The woman’s face fairly screamed distress and her eyes only called this out all the louder. Her cheeks were flushed and speckled like a child that has spent the last few hours throwing a tantrum. Her silver eyes were streaked with red and pouring tears, silent though they were, that showed no inclination to end anytime soon. Her nose, covered as it was with bandaging, had found a way to leak a thin trail of snot down the left of her upper lip and over her chin.

In no other words, the woman was an absolute mess and seemed not to even notice, much less care.

With the heiress watching in stunned, shocked silence of her own, Ruby reached one shaky hand out for the steaming cup. She took hold of its delicate handle and slowly, almost as though entranced, brought it to her snotty lip. Ruby took a sip, completely ignoring the heat of the steaming beverage, and sat it back on the table as naturally as though nothing were wrong at all. Weiss saw the blistering red it turned her lip, despite the flush in her face from the hard, silent tears.

“Ruby, I…” the heiress tried, but stopped short. The words stuck in her throat like a fishbone, which was very unlike her, and gave the heiress quite some pause.

“Why are you doing this?” Ruby muttered, almost inaudibly, her first words in hours.

Weiss blinked a few times in shock. Not only for the suddenness of her partner’s voice, but for the question itself. Why _had_ she done all this? Why had she insisted, despite only very recently becoming able to tolerate the woman, that Ruby come to her room instead of going to her own apartment? Why was she becoming so vested in something that was, in all truth and reality, none of her business and hardly any of her concern?

The answer eluded Weiss, much and more so, but this did not stop her from trying.

“I, uh… We’re partners.” She said, rather unsure of herself, and straightened up, “We’re partners and, well, it’s only polite. I mean, if you… uh…”

The heiress stuttered, sputtered and petered out, both vocally and, for a brief moment, mentally. While this transpired, Ruby took another three sips of her scalding hot tea. She continued ignoring the undoubtedly painful heat.

“I have to be sure you’re well enough to keep your grades up, Ruby!” Weiss shouted after a few moments of silence.

The woman sat her tea down again and turned her silver eyes to the heiress. When they met her icy blues, Weiss got her first real look at just how dead they looked to be. It almost made her sick, the reason for which she couldn’t possibly guess.

“Grades, huh?” Ruby scoffed, “Sounds about right…”

Weiss recoiled, as though Ruby had slapped her, and all but threw her own cup of tea across the room with the sudden gesture. It hit the wall by the door and shattered, giving the room its first real bit of commotion in quite some time. Yet, despite all of her nature dictating that she should care about how badly the tea might stain the carpet, the heiress neither flinched nor budged toward the mess. She only stared into her partner’s hurt, reeling gaze that bespoke more than a thousand volumes of print ever could.

Even to Weiss, who had no real talent for reading emotions.

“Ruby, you’re not acting like yourself…” she said, “This really isn’t like you. Please, tell me what happened…”

Ruby looked away and picked her tea up again. This time, however, she took no sips. Only held it and stared off into nothing.

The rain continued to beat the window, marking a noise that had become a part of the background to the two. Though it was loud and blatantly present, its constancy had seen it become little more than another part of the silence. A silence which, though broken in the last few minutes, descended upon the room once more.

“Father or sister?” Weiss asked, breaking the awful silence, as she tried to call on something the woman beside her had taught her. A lesson the heiress had spared little thought for, but for which she now found herself grateful for having learned to even a small degree.

It almost seemed like it accomplished what the heiress had intended when the woman’s silver eyes grew a tad wider. Yet, whatever it might have managed, the effect was woefully short lived.

“Doesn’t matter…” Ruby muttered, staring into nothing once again, “Whenever things start going well, something _always_ happens. Doesn’t matter why or to who…”

Now, Weiss was quickly reaching her limit. So many things were fighting for a chance to voice themselves in her mind. Too many thoughts and too many ideas at once, quickly overpowering the heiress’ faculties. She wasn’t used to this sort of illogical, emotional flurry, after all, and was finding herself woefully unable to maintain herself against its assault.

Ruby, for her part, was in a boat much similar to Weiss’. A situation which, for all intents and purposes, may as well have been the same. Different factors lie at its root, of course, but the effect was not dissimilar.

In her mind, it was all a blur of why’s and how’s. Why did this always happen? How had she not foreseen it? How had she managed to become complacent, yet again? Why was it always her family, never her?

So many questions floated through Ruby’s head, she found little recourse aside from spacing out. Just letting the steam of the tea, the loud patter of the rain and the relative quiet of the room take her away. As much so as the heiress, this reaction was incredibly unlike the normally cheerful and upbeat woman. Though, unlike the heiress, her introspection did not extend far enough to wonder why or to worry over this fact.

“I can help, Ruby, if you’ll let me.” Weiss said, unsure why she did.

The woman did not answer, only kept up her silent vigil over the bed and wall beyond.

“I _will_ help you.” Weiss tried again, “But I have to know what’s wrong, first…”

Now, as is all too often the case in our lives, something occurred for a reason that neither woman would be able to pinpoint for the entirety of their lives. It bloomed from a combination of impulse and simple exhaustion. Ironically, whether any are willing to admit so or not, it transpired in the manner that is most common of carefully laid plans. One reaches the zenith, where things are made or broken, and is suddenly faced with the fact that control is only an illusion we feed ourselves. Control over situations, or over circumstances or, perhaps most of all, true control over ourselves.

Ruby was overcome by something in the back of her mind, spurred by the way Weiss had delivered her plea, and turned back to the icy eyes that so mournfully beheld her. Then, without having the vaguest of clues why, she simply lost it. Her eyes flooded over, her voice would be held no more and her muscles acted with a will of their own. Ruby threw herself toward Weiss, wrapped her arms about the woman’s waist and began to wail, loud and painfully, into her abdomen.

Acting without thought herself, Weiss put her own arms around Ruby’s head.

“Get it out.” She said as compassionately as she could manage, “Get it out and tell me what’s wrong…”

 

Ђ

 

“I’m sorry, Weiss…” Ruby choked out between sobs. It had been almost twenty minutes since her half-hour cry had ended, but the hiccups that oft accompany such extended bawling were not yet out of her system.

“You’re alright here.” Weiss said softly, “Don’t force yourself. Just let it out and talk only when you’re ready…”

The entire time she held the quivering, wailing Ruby in her lap, until the violent cry had wound down to little more than shivering mewling, Weiss had wondered why. She wondered why she was doing so, why Ruby was acting so and, most of all, why it felt almost correct. The answer, which might seem obvious to an outside observer, eluded her. Yet, to her further amazement, this fact did little to bother Weiss either.

“This… this has all been so much…” Ruby went on, her voice broken up by sobs and hiccups, “It’s been over half a year, but all this new stuff… this new place…”

“After my first impression of you, I’m surprised you held it together _this_ long.” Weiss said with an unusually jovial, friendly tone.

Ruby snorted a bit of laughter. It was short-lived and almost choked out by a subsequent cough, but Weiss clearly heard it. The miniscule gesture was oddly comforting to hear.

“I guess I am a bit of a mess, huh?” Ruby mused.

“Which one was it, Ruby?” Weiss asked lamentingly, trying to keep things on track. She felt Ruby stiffen up suddenly, but force herself to relax a moment after.

“I said to talk when you’re ready.” Weiss went on, “I didn’t mean to talk about just any old thing. I meant for you to tell me what’s got you so upset. I’m not an eavesdropper, but after seeing your face when you were on the phone, the way it looked like a candle going out in the dark, I tried to hear what was being said. I only caught the last bit, which told me next to nothing, so you’re going to have to fill me in if I’m going to help...”

How long had it been since she had said so much at once? Off the top of her head, Weiss couldn’t recall. Even if given a month or a year, the heiress would have been hard-pressed to say, honestly, just how long.

“Yang…” Ruby whispered, and it was enough. This was good as she grew silent immediately after, which Weiss had expected.

The heiress mulled it over in her head for a moment. Just as she had thought, it was the sister after all. As for what it could be, though she could venture an undoubtedly accurate guess, ‘twas best to hear it from the horse’s mouth. Or, in this case, the thoroughly unsettled, upended and distraught woman’s mouth.

“What about her?” Weiss asked, perhaps a minute later, and instantly regretted her choice of wording.

Again Ruby stiffened, and again it was a thankfully short lived motion. The woman recovered quickly and sat up, pawing at her misty eyes, to look the heiress in the eye. The face she made, which fell somewhere between defeated and empty, sent a chill down Weiss’ spine and through her heart. The heiress was quickly discovering, in a manner she would never have expected to, just how little books could truly teach one.

They shared a psychology class which, though Ruby was inexplicably better in the performance of, the heiress believed she had learned much from. The basics were long behind them now, despite having only passed through the first half of the year. Now they were on to more subtle things, such as micro expressions and genetic allocation of memory. Things that bore little on the current situation, admittedly, but that bore _much_ on both the transpiring events as well as the heiress’ reactions. Or, more accurately, her lack of knowledge over the reason for.

One precise example, one which Weiss found herself faced with many times recently, was the way she had become inclined to sudden bouts of deep introspection and recollection.

“The call I got…” Ruby muttered morosely, breaking Weiss from another of those recent bouts, “It was from Nightshade, my sister’s partner. She said Yang was hurt, badly, and that they’re at this hospital in Vacuo…”

Ruby trailed off then, but Weiss was beginning to feel her assumptions were more than likely correct.

“It’s a big jump, moving so far from home and going to such a demanding university.” Weiss said, “I’d imagine the pressure to make the most of it would be pretty awful, all alone. Trying to figure out how to manage, and how to pay for it all without a scholarship, must have been grueling.”

The heiress stopped with a sudden hitch of breath. A shooting pain flashed through her chest and was gone the next instant. Without realizing, she lightly touched her chest, directly over her sternum, and took a deep breath.

“The pressure to make someone proud of you is pretty intense at times.” Weiss went on, “Heaven forbid if something happens to them before you can…”

“Yeah…” Ruby sighed.

“So, are you going tomorrow?” Weiss asked abruptly, “Or, I guess that would be later today…”

The raven-headed woman’s face twisted again, but to a much more alarming posture. This time it plainly read one thing, and that was helplessness.

“I can’t.” Ruby stated flatly, almost sounding like an echo.

“Why not?” Weiss asked, “Are you afraid to? Or, and I’m sure this couldn’t possibly be, do you not want to?”

The heiress’ normally icy stare, though it still retained the icy color, had melted to shock and concern. Ruby saw this and, to a miniscule degree, Weiss felt it within herself.

“No.” Ruby reiterated, “I just… _can’t_...”

Weiss stopped herself from blurting out the obvious questions, for it would have accomplished little as she well knew. The woman was in a shocked, volatile state, which would lend little to the effectiveness of a brute method of conversation in trying to ascertain her answer. So, despite having been mostly abandoned by the former efficacy of her logical ways, the heiress decided to give one more shot at an analytical approach.

It only took a moment of clearer, more astute observation for her to find the all too obvious answer.

“You don’t have a way there, do you?” Weiss asked, herself sounding eerily like an echo.

The look in those hurt, reeling silver eyes told her all she needed to know. And, in another moment of uncharacteristic, scarcely considered impulsiveness, Weiss decided exactly what she would do about it. Maybe she was losing herself part and parcel, but this gradually building change felt little like the frightening calamity that it probably should have. In fact, one could accurately venture that it felt right to her, which was a fright in and of itself.

“I said I’d help, so let’s get that straightened out.” Weiss said, and so she did.

 

Ψ

 

Two more days passed by at Saint Andrew’s. Two more days of the same show, wherein Blake would spend her morning reading a book and having breakfast. This was followed by a pre-noon trip to the physical therapy department, where a series of nurses would assist her in working on the injured leg that all claimed was healing far too fast. After that, lunch was coupled with another hours-long bout of reading. Then, around four in the afternoon, Blake was once more stolen away for the therapy that felt more and more unnecessary.

Two days of this, and the sun now dawned on the third. Yet, this day did not go quite as the faunus had come to expect.

Oh, she ate her breakfast in the same early morning silence, occupied only with the bleeps and blips of the machines. And she did read as well, unperturbed by these selfsame noises while her mind traveled to other places. When the time finally crawled around for her to be off for the therapy, that also went just as it had been.

It was after the first ten minutes of the therapy that things went odd, to say the least.

“I’m amazed at how well the wound has done, Miss Nightshade.” The nurse mused while observing Blake’s ridiculously fluid motions.

“Why are we still bringing her down here?” Asked another, equally awed by the sight.

There would have been another twenty minutes of this, were it not for what came next. Not the quiet slide of the door, of course, for that was nothing unusual. Doctors and nurses and patients alike came in and out while the room was occupied, and why wouldn’t they? It was _who_ came in and _what_ he said that set the entire thing into motion.

He hobbled over the padded floor of the therapy room on his jet-black cane, scratching at his stubbly neck all the while. He even stopped for a moment, to observe the miraculous sight for himself, before walking clear up to the nearly dancing faunus. Then, with no time for any save Blake to react, he lifted his cane, put his weight on the good leg and swung, hard, at her back.

Blake’s ears twitched, turned toward him and, in the blink of an eye, she did a flip. It was flawless, seamless and beautiful to behold. But more than that, it served to further the assaulting doctor’s disquiet.

“Why are huntresses such freaks of nature?” Holmes mused, now leaning on his cane again after the performance.

Blake spun around, huffing with both anger and some small exhaustion, and leveled an angry glare at him. Holmes’ eyes, those faded blue killer’s eyes, didn’t flinch.

“Are you trying to make my injuries worse?!” Blake yelled.

“No.” Holmes replied, truthfully and flatly, “Just wanted to see if you were both having the same run of miraculous recovery is all.”

She gave him only the same angry stare, colored now with a hint of curiosity, for his trouble.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

Holmes smiled, a nearly sinister grin he often wore after proving his point to one of his peers, and turned as if to leave the room. He took four hobbling steps before stopping and peering back over his shoulder.

“Wanna see?” he asked before walking out the door.

Blake was intrigued, to say the least, and did indeed follow with little hesitation. One of the nurses moved to stop her, being that the therapy session was only half done, but another grabbed the nurse’s shoulder. The look he gave her said all that needed to be said.

The doctor hobbled through the short hallway with the faunus in tow, headed straight for a pair of elevators on the corner. Now, Blake was not one with an incredible talent for reading others, and the events of the near past had left her more than a little blunted in this skill, but even she could tell something was off about the man. The gait of his hobble, thrown wide and long like he was overly excited, coupled with the fact that he spoke very little along the way said plenty.

They reached the elevators and he pushed the up arrow. It was there that he finally spoke.

“You know, _I_ think it’s something they feed you at that school.” Holmes said while watching the light descend the markers above the elevator doors.

“What are you talking about?” Blake asked in reply, understandably lost. Though she had learned more than a few things about the man, his penchant for cryptic, sometimes even flat-out lunatic speech was something she couldn’t quite acclimate to.

“Well, not many people, human or faunus, can boast the ability to recover from wounds like the two of you.” He said, and it finally clicked to Blake, “To put it simply, I’m just a bit shocked is all. I mean, look at you! You’re up and walking, hardly a week after coming in nearly dead. Even doing flips!”

“I didn’t exactly want that cane of yours smacking me in the back…” Blake muttered with annoyance, though her mood was already beginning to make a turn for the better. She hardly dared to hope, but with the way he was going on it was hard not to.

The elevator reached them and opened up with a muted whoosh. The two stepped in, Holmes first as though there weren’t a lady present, and the thing began its ascent after he pressed the proper button.

“Don’t know if they taught you this at Beacon, or if they taught you biology at all, but few living things walk off an infection when they’re half-starved and dehydrated.” He went on while the machine took them up, “That wound of yours was pretty damn infected, at that. I was fairly certain we’d have to amputate when you first got here.”

Blake flashed him a surprised look, to which he gave another of his victorious, nearly sinister grins.

“Well, obviously I wasn’t going to after you started showing signs of recovery. Still, it’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“Uh… sure, I guess.” Blake stuttered.

“But, _that’s_ not the weirdest part.” Holmes said, “Do you know what is?”

“Actually, I think I might.” Blake said with a cheeky smile, small and uninvited.

“Oh?”

“The weirdest part is probably that you have no idea why, right?”

Holmes’ smile faded for a moment but quickly flared back to life. He broke his gaze from Blake’s just as the doors opened and both stepped out.

Once again, they walked the hallway in silence. Now they were on the floor where the critical care center was housed, headed down a path Blake could likely navigate while blindfolded at this point. Though it had not quite been an entire week for her, she had traveled the stretch of fluorescent-lit hall well over fifty times. And she knew well exactly where they were headed.

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about or not?” She asked, growing more impatient with every passing moment.

Holmes only continued on with his hobbling in silence. One might’ve even assumed he had not heard her at all with the way he simply kept up the pace, missing not a step and giving not even so much as a shrug. Then, when they finally came to the door Blake recognized all too well, he finally gave a sign he _had_ heard her. He grabbed the handle and twisted, but did not open it. Instead, he peered over his shoulder again and leveled his faded blue eyes on her.

“I figured I’d just let you see for yourself.” He said, eyes alight with an odd mix of excitement and befuddlement, before tossing the door wide open.

Blake stood in shocked silence for the sight she beheld within. There was little else she could do, after all. With the constant news and the constant lack of change to it, she had nearly come to the verge of giving up hope. But, with the emotion kindled anew by Holmes’ words in the therapy room, it now flared bright and full once more.

“Knock, knock!” Holmes shouted, “Visitor for Blazing Sol!”

Blake ignored him and staggered into the room, her eyes already welling up with tears she would not be able to hold back for long. Could it be? Surely not, but there it was…

“I’ll just leave you both to it.”

Blake heard Holmes’ words, even felt the air when he shut the door, and realized she was already in front of Yang’s bed. Time felt warped again, for her at least, and the reason was clear. The reason was presently sitting up in bed, staring wistfully out the window at the sea below. The reason was alive, awake and, most unbelievably of all, looked none the worse for the wear.

“Y- Ya-…” Blake stuttered, falling just short of true speech when the first tears fell. The first of many…

The woman on the bed turned her gaze from its mournful watch over the sea. Her lavender eyes met Blake’s tear-riddled golden. She flashed a weak but warm smile, and Blake lost it completely.

“Yang!” the faunus screamed before flinging herself onto the blonde.

In the moment before she did, however, there was something vaguely amiss. Something that seemed incredibly important somewhere in the back of her mind. It was dark, a sort of queerly glowing black, and shaped in a most disquieting fashion. But she missed it, and would likely not have cared even if she had fully seen it.

 

Ђ

 

How long had it been since last calling on the more caring side of her aptly named sister? At a moment’s thought, Weiss could not remember. Surely long enough that both had felt strange about it, undoubtedly so, but Winter certainly seemed amiable enough. It was no secret that Winter sympathized with Weiss’ contempt over their father’s constant machinations for his daughters. A miserable truth that Winter had broken free of the moment she could, by joining Atlas’ vaunted military no less. Weiss was thankful to have at least that much in kind with her sister.

“ _See to it that your endeavor…_ ” Winter droned over the scroll before stopping with an annoyed cluck of her tongue.

“ _Make sure you’re not gone too long, Weiss._ ” She finished after a lengthy pause.

The way she finished the statement, Weiss might’ve believed her sister was actually worried about her. Nonsense, surely, but the tone was definitely there. She simply brushed this off and sucked a deep lungful of the salty sea breeze coming from a nearby open window.

“I’ll be back before the End of Year Finals, Winter.” The heiress said as respectfully as she could.

“ _That gives you one week on the mark._ ” Winter said skeptically.

“That gives me _more_ than I’ll need.” Weiss replied with a slight huff, only vaguely feeling guilty for her choice of words. It was not as though she were lying outright, per se, but it also was not that she absolutely knew a week was all that would be needed. One bridge at a time, though.

“ _Be safe, sister._ ” Winter said after another moment’s pause.

The heiress almost couldn’t believe her ears. How long had it been since the stoic, solitary and cold Winter Schnee had referred to her baby sister in such a manner? Long enough to leave said sister momentarily lost for words.

“I will…” Weiss said at last, pausing in her shock before adding, with awkward emphasis, “ _Sister._ ”

The scroll clicked audibly and the line went dead. Weiss would likely never know that, on the other end, Winter’s face had turned the deep scarlet of one who has said exactly what they meant, only with a boldness they had not intended. Yet that was neither here nor there, and Weiss had other matters on hand to attend to.

The heiress looked at the blinking, beeping device for a moment before laying it on a nearby table. The small surface was almost painfully low to the floor and tucked into a corner by her bunk, but it would do well enough. She then turned around to leave the tiny sleeping quarters and was momentarily struck with dizziness.

With the call to her sister and the intoxicating sent of the air to distract her, the heiress had nearly forgotten where she was for a time. A time enough for her sea legs to make a speedy exit, at least. When the gentle rock of the small vessel, which was not much larger than a medium fishing boat, came back to her, it returned with all the expected force of nature itself.

Weiss swayed with the brief vertigo and caught hold of the door frame. She reeled for a moment, got hold of herself and huffed in disgust.

“Twenty-Thousand Lien and two beautiful women.” She sighed angrily, “One would think the young captain might at least feel the need to impress his guests with better piloting…”

Of course, being one of only two children born to one of the wealthiest families across all of Remnant, and sheltered as she had been until the last handful of years, Weiss did not actually know the first thing about boating. To say she was unprepared for the sway of the sea would be only a half truth, but to say she would know that nothing could be done about this unavoidable feature of seafaring would simply be giving her too much credit.

While the heiress spent the next few minutes below deck trying to get regain herself, and not ruin another outfit with the contents of her stomach, Ruby remained up top. The raven-headed woman had never been so bold as to think she might one day be a passenger on a privately charted boat, miniscule or otherwise. Because of this, and despite the looming specter of the bad-news she’d received only two days earlier, she was utterly entranced.

Yes, her heart was still heavy with the onslaught of emotions. Yes, her mind was still enfeebled by the menagerie of compounded problems. And yes, perhaps most of all, she was still incredibly worried over the welfare of her sister.

But even so, the picture of the sun setting into the infinite blue, with its cavalcade of bright oranges and fiery reds and blazing yellows painted across the sky…

“Damn…” Ruby muttered, almost fully stolen by her awe.

“S’quite the perty sight, idn’it?” mused a gruff yet oddly inviting voice from behind her.

She turned to see one Cerus Lean, captain of the hastily chartered vessel, standing with his arms crossed over his barrel chest. His long, incredulously clean beard wafted in the breeze that carried by. In his mouth there sat an old hickory pipe, burning away with heavens knew what smoldering in the bell. The hazel eyes that sat sunken into his baggy sockets clearly regarded the same image that had stolen Ruby away, reflecting the fiery sky of the setting sun as he watched.

“You get to see this a lot, don’t you?” she mused after turning away to admire the ethereal view once more.

“Yar, an right perty ‘tis er’time I lays eyes on’t.” Cerus replied in his gruff, half-spoken and half-eaten speech.

Ruby’s eyes welled over with tears while she stared. Mostly for the salty breeze that blew without cease, but amply also for the emotions brought on both by the sight before her and the thoughts within her. She sniffled.

“How long did you say the trip should take?” she asked morosely.

“By good winds and gooder seas, shern’t be mer’n two days, aye.” He grizzled, “’Course, ats c’nsider’n ere’s no detours at white lass ants ta make…”

Ruby turned her gaze to him and regarded the man with waxing curiosity. Things were stirred and crazed in her mind, and even more so in her heart, but Cerus’ statement still struck an off cord. It wasn’t as though she assumed she knew the heiress part and parcel, of course, but she _did_ feel she knew her somewhat well. Enough to feel off about the captain’s statement at the least.

“What do you mean by ‘detours’, huh?”

“Kips like er’s as like ta hide sumfin as ‘ey are to fink ta sun shines out their bleedin’ arse.” Cerus observed in reply, followed with a hearty laugh that sounded oddly like thunder.

Ruby was not one given to judging thoughts, not by any stretch of the imagination, but, with his salty demeanor and oddly jaded tone, thirty seemed like an awfully young age for the man.

“Speak o’ the white’n!” he bellowed suddenly just as Weiss stepped onto the deck, “Thar she blows!”

The heiress was quick to shoot him an icy, contemptuous glance. Unmoved by the gesture, Cerus understood that his antics were not presently welcome all the same. In a rare exercise of human restraint, he made for the bridge without another peep. For this, Weiss couldn’t have been more grateful.

“Still enjoying the view?” she asked, approaching Ruby while simultaneously fighting another bout of nausea.

“As much as I can, I guess…” Ruby replied with lackluster tone.

Weiss managed to stagger close enough to stand beside her partner and grabbed hold of the railing before them both with undue vigor. She steadied herself and tried to beckon her sea legs to return, setting her own gaze out toward the horizon while fighting the inner battle. It didn’t take long for the heiress to realize exactly why her partner found it so mesmerizing.

“Things look… boundless out here, don’t they?” Weiss said with unhidden awe. She had seen many sights of grandeur in her pampered life, but rarely had she stopped to truly consider any of them. Here though, with partner in tow and life all but put on hold, there was little else to do but let the grandiose surroundings take you.

“I’ve never seen the sea from this view.” Ruby said dreamily.

“Oh?” Weiss sighed.

Ruby just shook her head, up and down once, in reply. It was an awfully childish gesture, one that Weiss only caught from the corner of her eye, which spoke volumes of the woman’s inner workings.

“How are you feeling, Ruby?” The heiress asked in a far off tone.

“Better, I think.” Ruby said, then sighed heavily, “You were right, Weiss. I think it was just everything coming down at once, and I just kinda panicked…”

Weiss turned her icy eyes and settled them on Ruby. She watched as the woman crouched on her heels, holding the rail tightly with outstretched arms, and peered at the infinite blue through the shiny bars. Her puffy, silver eyes, worn and marked with the crying that had only recently ceased, held an emotion the heiress was glad to see returned.

Their silver surface gleamed as much with their given color as they did with sheer wonder, giving a much needed look of happiness, however partial or weak, back to Ruby’s mien.

“You really are a strong one.” Weiss said with just the barest hint of envy.

“Nah.” Ruby blurted in reply.

The heiress tilted her head quizzically, a gesture Ruby must have caught from the corner of her eye. She turned to face the heiress and flashed her a friendly, almost thankful grin. It was weak, and even looked a bit forced, but it was good to see all the same.

“It’s Yang.” She said very matter-of-factly, “I know my sister, and I know she’s not the kind of fire to just poof out like this.”

Ruby broke her gaze from the heiress’ and looked back to the ocean.

“Maybe she _is_ pretty badly hurt, and maybe she _is_ worse off than I’d like to think… But this is _Yang_ , Weiss. She can’t go out like this.”

She stopped and took a deep breath, filling herself with the tangy, salty air that carried on the breeze. After holding it for a moment, Ruby let it go with a very mournful sigh; a sigh that said, though her words were brave and she wanted to believe them, she was quite afraid that she might be lying. Not only to the heiress, but even more so to herself.

“She _won’t_ go out like this.” Ruby said gravely, “I’m sure of it.”

 

Ђ

 

The dawn of the second day of their trip brought the rise of another beautiful sun. Its golden rays hit the surface of the sky and scattered into a plethora of blazing hues. All colors of the rainbow it seemed, the light scored ravines of purples and oranges and even pinks, leaving a cosmic trail that could only be called humbling.

And humbling was indeed one of the many feelings evoked in Ruby’s heart as she watched that dawn skyline. Humbling and nostalgic, harkening to recollections of similar skies viewed as a kid-sister in tow with her older sibling. Times of camping, times of exploration, and even times of simple loitering after a morning jog. Good times and good memories, in no other words.

While she watched, the ocean waves beat relentlessly on the hull of the small boat. They came and crashed, spraying seafoam and plucking a deep melody into the air. Each soft plat brought another wave of the recollective feeling into her, despite such a sound being relatively new. Ruby might never have experienced the ocean in such a manner, so close and intimate with its unending blue, but nostalgia has a way of altering these things. For when we recall one with whom we hold infinitely strong bonds of kinship, all things around are colored to their image and memory.

“Did you sleep?” called a familiar voice, one that had gradually dug its way ever further into Ruby’s heart over the recent months.

“Enough.” Ruby said flatly but happily.

From her position, leaned against the mizzenmast at the rear of the vessel and staring over the knee-high railing before her, she looked like a forlorn soul awaiting a sailor lost at sea. Weiss observed this with some passing fancy, recalling a time when poetic prose had once stirred her heart, and approached with an unexpected flutter beneath her breast. Unusual, considering the way she had been until the last half of a year.

Now, though, such throbs seemed less and less foreign in her bosom where the silver eyed Ruby was concerned.

“The captain’s up too, and said he would have us some breakfast soon.” Weiss said while settling beside her partner.

Still staring off into the beauty rising in the east, Ruby’s gaze was brought to the heiress when she felt a warm sensation nudge her arm. She looked over and saw the cup of steaming blackness, and was immediately reminded how thankful she was. For many things, but, at this very moment, keenly so for her friend.

“Thank you.” She said sweetly, taking the offered cup and having a sip. She considered the beverage and its bitterness for a moment, then said, as if far off in a dream, “You didn’t have to do all of this, you know?”

Weiss was in the middle of a sip herself. A slow and savoring drinker, the heiress preferred to taste every drop of the few things she deigned to grace her palate with. But, with the unexpected statement, her eyes grew wide and her present half-sip nearly choked her. Embarrassment was the most likely factor in this reaction.

“Why do you say that?” she managed to choke out between stymied coughs.

Ruby looked to her cup, stared at the black surface and took another taste. She let it warm her, mouth and chest and soul, and looked back to the sunrise. When she did, the image was blurry and distorted. Her eyes were tearing over, and she knew not why.

“You just…” she tried, grasping blindly for her words, “You didn’t _have_ to, is all I mean. There was nothing forcing your hand, or really any reason for you to do it…”

She trailed off. After a moment of silent thought, Ruby pawed the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath. The early morning air seemed to have a convalescent flavor, somehow charged by the rising beauty on the horizon, that soothed whatever had her eyes tearing over so.

“I guess I’m really asking, ‘Why did you do this?’ is all…” Ruby finished with a sigh.

The heiress looked to her own cup, but did not take another taste. She simply stared at the churning blackness, tossed gently with the soft motions of the vessel beneath. The gaze she gave it almost said she expected to find an answer within, as though there were tea leaves to be read. Almost, but not quite.

She looked into the coffee with her eyes, but looked for the question’s answer with her mind and in her soul.

“I guess it’s my own way of saying thank you.” Weiss muttered at last, after remaining in silence for nearly a minute, “For reaching out, for not selling me out, and for just… well, being _you_.”

Her face had begun to shade red from the first phrase out of her barely pink lips. With each subsequent word, it felt as though her cheeks were readying a bonfire beneath the surface. This wasn’t helped by the fact that she could _feel_ Ruby’s wide-eyed and befuddled stare on her, without having to look.

“Weiss, I…” Ruby stuttered, a tad embarrassed herself, “I, um… I didn’t know it meant so much to you…”

“Me either.” The heiress agreed quickly.

Both stood in silence for a few minutes, engrossing themselves in the sounds of the sea and the bitterness of their drinks while the mutual embarrassment ran its course. Then, as though out of nowhere, something struck Ruby.

“What was there for me to sell you out for?” she blurted out suddenly.

Weiss leveled a nakedly shocked glare at her, which quickly turned into an adoring and soft smile.

“No one is _that_ innocent, Ruby.” The heiress mused with a giggle, “Especially not someone who dances their way through university.”

Ruby’s face turned deep scarlet almost all at once. She opened her mouth as if to reply, but was stopped by a loud chirping. Without a thought, and without hesitation, the woman drew something from her right pocket with such speed as to leave the heiress wondering what had happened at all.

There was a rush of wind and a scroll simply appeared in Ruby’s hand, so far as Weiss could tell.

“Hello?” the woman answered, her voice almost in full panic. Or maybe sheer surprise.

“ _This is Ruby, right?_ ” The voice on the other end said, sounding equally excited or panicky. Much to the heiress’ own surprise, she could make it out despite the sounds of the ocean surrounding them.

“Uh huh, Ruby Rose here. And this is Nightshade, right?” Ruby replied quickly.

“ _Yes. It’s about your sister again…_ ”

The woman swallowed hard and loudly, a nervous gesture the heiress had read of once or twice but never actually witnessed.

“ _She’s made a full recovery and the doctors are talking about releasing her in the next couple of days._ ” Nightshade went on, “ _She wanted me to tell you not to worry, and don’t go out of your way to come out here. She’s coming to see you once she’s cleared to go._ ”

A thousand questions rolled through Ruby’s mind at once. They ran the gambit from shocked pleas for more information to disbelieving requests for repetition. In the end, what might be the most expected won out.

“How?” Ruby whispered.

“ _No one knows._ ” Nightshade replied, her own skepticism clear but suppressed, “ _She just got better, pretty much overnight. Even the doctor in charge hasn’t given a single guess why…_ ”

“But she _is_ better, right?” Ruby pressed anxiously.

“ _Yes. Better like a miracle._ ”

“Then why hasn’t she called me yet?”

There was a pause for a moment, and Ruby’s heart picked up the pace by nearly thirty beats. The taxed organ raced and her mind went to the four corners with raving thoughts until Nightshade’s voice piped up again.

“ _She wanted to, but they wouldn’t let her._ ” She said, though her words seemed off somehow, “ _But she will call you as soon as they clear her. She told me to tell you that._ ”

“That’s ok, we’re almost there anyway!” Ruby nearly shouted in her growing excitement.

“ _I’m sorry?_ ”

“We’re about a day out, me and a friend! So tell Yang not to worry, I’ll be there sometime tomorrow!”

There was another pause, in which Ruby could have sworn she heard a remorseful sigh. Had her mind not been on overload with elation, she might have wondered why Nightshade would do such a thing. As it was, however, she did not. One thing and one thing only had her thoughts, and that was the miraculous update about her sister.

All was right and all was well with Ruby’s world.

“Tell Yang I said hi, ok?!” she squealed with joy.

“ _I- I’ll do that._ ” Nightshade agreed reservedly, “ _She said to tell you the same. Be safe on your way, alright?_ ”

“I will!” Ruby yelled before sliding the scroll shut. With hardly a moment in between, she pocketed the thing and spun around to face Weiss, who had managed to overhear the entire exchange.

“Guess what?!” Ruby all but screamed, “My sister’s fine! Yang is ok!”

She leapt like a spring and bounced around as though an ecstatic child. The heiress could hardly suppress the warmth growing inside her at the sight, which gave way to a natural and serene smile.

“I told you!” she yelled, as much to the sky as to the heiress, “That’s Yang! Nothing can keep her down!”

While Weiss watched her partner’s sudden about-face, and while the captain walked out the breakfasts he had just finished, there stood a fourth among them. Unseen, unknown and unfelt, he watched with cruel intrigue and a wicked grin cut across his rotted features.

_Charyou Tree_

 

Ψ

 

“Bloodwork is good, EEG reads fine…” Holmes muttered to himself while looking over the various machines hooked up to Yang, “Nothing’s out of the ordinary, however impossible that may be.”

Blake looked from her partner, lying on her new bed in the outpatient wing, to the hobbled doctor, staring with unhidden disgust at a continuous sheet of paper coming from one of the devices. Her own gaze displayed blatant, almost puerile alleviation. To say she was relieved would be an understatement of the highest order.

“So, how much longer are you going to hold me here?” Yang asked.

Holmes leveled his faded blue gaze onto her, his eyes even more sunken than Blake had seen them when her partner lie on the brink only some few days earlier. The stubble on his cheeks was now well on its way to becoming a full, shaggy beard.

“Until I can figure out what’s caused this unreal recovery…” He muttered, pinching the flesh between his eyebrows and closing his eyes with blatant irritation, “Or so I’d like to say. But, you’re well enough that I have no authority to hold you. It’s your call.”

Yang looked to Blake, and Blake to Yang. Both shared a questioning regard, as if asking the other’s permission. It was now barely over a week since the hollow city, the man in the mask, and the chase to the end of the world. Nine days had passed and here they stood, after having both been beaten and battered, fit as fiddles and right as rain. No trace of the experience left, save for the shared memories between them that neither had divulged to any others.

“I’ll stay for one more day.” Yang said to Holmes after breaking her gaze away, “Run some more tests if you like. Never know, you might just find that answer you’ve got such a hard-on for.”

She punctuated the statement with a sly wink, to which Holmes quickly reacted with understandable, albeit well hidden, anger. Blake turned away to hide a snicker as best she could, which was not all that well. The heartwarming sound echoed through the mostly silent room, unimpeded by the various beeps of the machines.

“Maybe just _one_ more lumbar puncture.” Holmes said, “See if there’s anything we missed in the spinal fluid.”

The look in his eye just before he left told Yang the joke was on her, but she cared little. The sun was rising and sending its first motherly rays through her window, painting her tanned skin with a reddish-golden hue. She could hear birds chirping and the light wisp of the sea breeze just beyond the thin panes. Best of all, Blake had already informed her the previous night of her sister’s imminent arrival.

All was well and all was good.

“Did she say what kind of boat she was coming in?” Yang asked with a shimmer in her lavender eyes.

“Nope.” Blake responded, her own gaze peering out the window with Yang’s.

“Think she’s here yet?”

“Maybe?”

Yang took a deep, almost despondent breath and sighed with a nearly forced effort. Everything was fine, but her chest did feel oddly tight. A quick glance to the monitor which displayed her heartrate told her nothing was amiss. So she ignored it and simply looked back out the window, thinking briefly she might spot her sister. Maybe, if she looked hard enough…

“Hey, Blake dear…” Yang whispered in an oddly calm, serene voice.

“Uh huh?” the faunus responded.

“You ready to get back after him?”

It wasn’t for the question itself, but for the suddenness of it, that Blake visibly jumped. Her ears folded flat to her head and the hairs on the nape of her neck stood tall, despite the flowing locks atop them. Heart racing, skin suddenly sweating, eyes thinned to mere slits, and mouth going dry, Blake turned to level a bemused glare at the blonde.

“Are you _insane_?!” She hissed in mixed disgust and shock.

“Probably.” Yang replied flatly, “But I’m not letting this go, either way. Something like that can’t just be left to roam across Remnant, unknown and unchecked.”

Yang’s gaze remained affixed on the seafront some few miles off, watching the boats drift lazily around the harbor as the sun painted them all the colors of early morning fire. She gave not one indicator that Blake’s distressed stare either bothered or even registered to her. For this, and a few other reasons, the faunus felt a sudden sinking in her stomach.

“I’m not going to lose you, Yang.” She whispered with tears welling in her eyes, “Not like that, not until old age comes to get us.”

At this, Yang finally turned her lavender gaze to meet Blake’s golden. When she did, the sight that greeted her faunus lover was utterly shattering.

Her eyes seemed hollow, almost dead, and looked as if they peered into the ether. Her face, which had been left tanned in the wake of their pursuit, was ashy pale and streaked with blue veins. Worst of all, Blake finally saw the image that she had sensed some few times since waking in the critical care wing of Saint Andrew’s. She saw it in full, and her heart let go of every good feeling that had occupied it in the last three days.

The upside-down cross glowed bright and black and proud on her love’s forehead as the room was filled with the blare of alarms from the various machines monitoring the blonde.

 

Ђ

 

For once in quite some time, much to the heiress’ chagrin over such a truth, things were finally going as planned. Hastily planned, yes and thank you, but as planned all the same.

The captain, salty loudmouth that he was, had made fantastic time just as he’d sworn to do. They even arrived nearly a full day earlier than Weiss had planned for, and that was only icing on the cake. For this reason, as well as his otherwise professional demeanor, if one ignored his rather brusque manner of speech, she had tipped him well. Ten-thousand more on top of his commission rate, to which Ruby had nearly fainted at the sight of.

What’s more, there had not even been a need to scramble for the hotel room she had reserved upon their departure. The check-in time was still hours off and the day was only just beginning, which meant there would be time to go see her friend’s ailing sister and even stay for most of the morning. Oh, how wonderful it felt to have things finally settling into place. Even more so, perhaps, when she thought of how this would surely improve Ruby’s grades, though this seemed less and less important for reasons the heiress was only just coming to suspect, and even understand on a rudimentary level.

“Oh, I can’t wait to tell Yang all about the university!” Ruby nearly squealed in her building excitement, “All the neat things I’ve seen, all the cool places I’ve been, and all the awesome things I’ve learned! Ah, she’s going to be so proud!”

“When you put your head to it, you’re quite the quick study.” Weiss observed with some small admiration.

“Most of that’s thanks to you, Weiss.” Ruby added quickly, skipping along the sidewalk in front of Saint Andrew’s as though she were twelve years younger.

Weiss didn’t respond to this, only turned her gaze to the concrete and blushed. She had no present idea why, of course, but she was beginning to suspect. Surely not, but it would explain a lot…

“Race you there!” Ruby blurted suddenly before tearing off.

The heiress looked up only just in time to see a veritable cloud of rose petals. Her partner was gone, now somewhere off ahead. Weiss strained her gaze and barely managed to pick the woman out, heading for the front lobby like a bullet.

“Wait up, you dolt!” Weiss shouted before taking off as well.

 

Ђ

 

A storm had pulled up seemingly from nowhere almost the moment the two women stepped over Saint Andrew’s threshold. The sky darkened, the clouds gathered and greyed, and rain poured as though some celestial dam had broken. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed when they stepped into the grand lobby of the hospital, eliciting a squeaking jump from Ruby and a short giggle from Weiss at the sight.

They crossed the tiled floor like echoing specters, jolly but oddly muted in their movements. Weiss was in high spirits for the recovery of her partner’s mood, and for some few other reasons forming slowly beneath her icy surface. Ruby, as well, was in a fantastic mood, despite the storm and despite her embarrassing display.

Even still, a pallor had consumed they and their immediate vicinity like a malevolent fog.

“How can I help you, ladies?” greeted a friendly nurse as the two approached the front desk.

“I’m here to see my sister!” Ruby all but shouted in reply.

“Alright then. Can you tell me her name so I can direct you?”

Ruby grinned from ear to ear and gave her reply with an almost infectious energy, saying, “Blazing Sol!” as though it were a most glorious title.

And to her, it quite was.

“Ah, Miss Sol.” The nurse repeated before turning and thumbing through a nearby binder, “She’s been all anyone’s talking about for the last few days. Supposedly came in on death’s doorstep, then made an impossible recovery overnight. I hear even our brightest, doctor Holmes, can’t figure it out.”

“That’s my sister, alright!” Ruby said with all the pride in her being.

The nurse continued to thumb through the binder, checking name after name, until she came across the one. With a satisfied huff, she looked back to the beaming Ruby and could not help but to give a genuine smile in return.

“She’s on floor three in the outpatient wing.” She said, “Take the elevator directly behind me to the third floor, head straight down the hall after exiting, and turn left at the first intersection. From there, follow the green line to room two-twenty-one.”

Weiss bowed politely and Ruby followed suit, almost comically in her excitement, before the two headed for the elevator. They crossed the last stretch of the lobby and reached it, thumbing the button for up the moment they did. The thing whirred to life and began its descent, showcasing this on the gilded display above the silver doors.

“This is a really nice place.” Weiss mused before giving an approving whistle.

“Yeah, it is.” Ruby agreed, “I read it was built as a memorial after the war, to commemorate the doctors that served without allegiance to either side. The ones that faced execution from both sides for treason…”

They continued to watch the descending elevator in silence after that. It only took roughly a minute all in all, opening with a muted whoosh upon reaching them. Both stepped in and Ruby nearly smashed the button for floor three. The heiress thought she might even have jammed her finger, but the woman gave no sign if she did.

“Are you going to tell her _all_ about your experience at the university?” Weiss asked.

“Mmhm.” Ruby hummed her simple reply.

The heiress considered pushing the subject for only a moment.

“Even the dancing?”

“Yup!”

“Why?”

Now, Ruby looked to her friend and locked gaze with her. The sight of her silver eyes was both intense and unusually lucid, giving the woman an air the heiress had not yet seen about her.

“Because, when someone is important to you, you don’t keep secrets. You don’t keep secrets, you don’t lie, and you certainly don’t hold back something they might find important.”

She paused then, with her mouth open as though she had more to say, and cast her gaze to the floor for a moment. It looked as though she were admiring the velvet carpet, but this couldn’t be further from the case. She was practicing exactly what she had just preached, but searching for the words with which to do so properly.

“I’ve realized, in a way I really should’ve earlier, just how precious family and friends are, Weiss.” Ruby said at last, “My sister is a huntress, just like I wanted to be. I’ve always idolized them, and her even more so for becoming one, but I never realized how _suddenly_ they can just be… _gone_.”

Ruby lifted her gaze back to Weiss’ and gave a weak smile, entirely different from what she had worn until now. Her spirit was just as high as it had been, but the grave matter of which she spoke elicited an instinctually grave expression.

“I’m going to thank her for giving me this chance, tell her everything I’ve done since I got there, and ask her to forgive me for doing it the way I am. I know she will, she’s my sister after all, but I’m still going to ask.”

Weiss couldn’t help but smile, warm and wide, in return. It had been almost too long to remember since she last smiled this way, but it came just as naturally as if she had never stopped.

“You _are_ a good person, you know?” the heiress mused with open admiration, “Yang’s lucky to have a sibling like you.”

With those words, and just as the door opened, a pain fired through the heiress’ heart. It simultaneously hurt and felt utterly exalting. She briefly thought of her own sister while stepping into the bright hallway of the third floor, and hoped, in some unconscious part of herself, she might one day be as close.

But the feeling did not last, for upon entering the third floor hallway they were greeted by pandemonium. Nurses flitted this way and that, doctors skittered like roaches fleeing the light, and alarms were ringing from all directions.

“I’ve got a code blue in four-o-two!” shouted one, a younger doctor.

“Multiple organ failure in five-o-nine!” screamed a panicking nurse, leaning out of the mentioned room’s doorway, “Need immediate intervention here!”

“I’ve got a patient seizing!” yelled another doctor, this one middle-aged and more unnerved than his veteran years would usually allow for.

Weiss, for her part, remained reasonably calm amidst the chaos. She looked across the room with observant eyes, trying to piece together what they might have just stepped into. Ruby, on the other hand, fell apart almost instantly. Her mind went to one place, in the blink of an eye, and shut all else out.

“Yang…” Ruby whispered before bolting off through the hall.

The heiress had never seen anything like it. It was as though a human tornado, turned sideways and spouting rose petals like dust, had formed and taken off down the hall. Doctors and nurses were tossed aside like straw, papers flung into the air like snow. All in an instant, Ruby was gone and out of sight, speeding in madness for her sister’s room.

When Ruby arrived at the door, Weiss had only just set off to follow.

The first thing that greeted Ruby’s arrival was an aura like nothing she had ever felt. It was putrid and corrupt and debilitating in its presence. It fair screamed of death and torture and sent her heart immediately back to where it was when she received her first morose call from Nightshade. Back to that pit, where truth was an infinite expanse of dark.

She grabbed the handle before her and twisted it slowly, wanting nothing more than to wake up and see this had been a nightmare. Even if she discovered she had wet the bed from the intensity of it, such a turnabout would be a relief. A relief that, sadly, she would not receive.

 

Λ

 

“Blake?” Yang called in a choked whisper.

The faunus tried for her words, gripping her lover’s hand like a vise, but could only wheeze at first. All around her were the blaring alarms from the various machines, each reporting a drastic emergency that required immediate attention. But no attention came, for, unknown to Blake, the rest of the entire floor was absolute bedlam.

“Blake, are you still there?” Yang managed to choke out further, a whisper weak as before.

“Yes!” Blake screamed, pushing her mind and lungs and voice to their limits, “Yes, Yang! I’m here! I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere!”

Her eyes were hot, so very hot, and stung like fire. She could feel the heat coursing down her cheeks, soaking her shirt and falling on the hand she clutched so tightly. Her teeth were throbbing as well, hard as she clenched them between her mostly failed attempts to speak. Her nose had nearly quit on her entirely, now clogged as it was from the torrential weeping.

“Blake… are you there?” Yang echoed again, the heart monitor nearly overpowering her whispered speech.

“I am, I am!” Blake shouted in reply, then leaned across the woman and whispered, “I’m here, Yang… Please, can’t you hear me?”

The blonde coughed, hard and ragged. Flecks of blood spattered from her mouth and covered her blanket, her shirt and the faunus’ cheek. Blake might have recoiled under other circumstances, but her own mind was so far gone as to not even notice the warm crimson on her cheek. With all the tears, it was indistinguishable anyway.

After the bout of coughing, Yang sucked in a ragged breath and tried to speak. Had Blake been any further from her face, she would not have heard the words that were barely words at all.

“It is you… You _are_ still there, aren’t you?” Yang said in a wheezing, sighing whisper.

“I am.” Blake nearly chanted, “I am, I am, I am. I’m right here, Yang…”

Another wheezing, ragged breath, and Yang spoke her last.

“Did I… ever…” she spoke, coughed, then went on, “Did I ever tell you… about…” another rattling cough, another few specks of blood on Blake’s cheek, and the blonde finished, “My wonderful kid-sister?”

“Yes, you have, but tell me again.” Blake pleaded between quiet sobs, “Tell me as many times as you can, Yang.”

She waited, watching her lover’s face. Blake waited and watched and, after almost a minute, shook the blonde’s hand lightly. It was limp and, upon looking to her face, she saw the lavender eyes she so adored were wide and staring into nothing.

“Yang?” softly at first, “Yang, come on. Stay awake, Yang!”

She shook the hand held tight in her own some more, gradually becoming nearly violent with the motion. Her tongue became heavy and dry and her throat started to feel as if it would close. Again, Blake spoke, her words becoming closer to animal cries and barks.

“Yang!” she screamed, “Wake up, Yang! Ruby’s going to be here any minute, you have to wake up!”

When it finally began to sink in, a sudden noise called Blake’s attention away. She spun her head so quick one might’ve worried it would pop off and saw someone in the doorway. Someone she had not seen in years but faintly recognized all the same, whose silver eyes grew wide as saucers within an instant.

The familiar woman stepped closer, on wobbly and unsure legs, until she stood beside Blake. It was clear from her posture that the woman saw only the one on the bed, and not the faunus knelt beside her.

“Y-…” the woman muttered as she fell to her knees, “Yang…?”

Blake watched her lean over and press her head against the woman’s bosom, as though listening for her heart. The look that came across her face, of unadulterated terror and disbelief, told her it could not be heard, and she knew it then. His words had come as delivered.

The familiar woman stood up, her face blank and her posture empty, and looked the blonde over. Her crawling gaze said she both could and could not comprehend it. She then took two large steps back, nearly falling on the second, and screamed at the top of her lungs. A pained, terrible wail that pierced Blake like a knife.

“I’m sorry!” the woman screamed, stamping her feet like a toddler throwing a tantrum, “I’m sorry, Yang! I tried! I came as fast as I could! You can’t just go, they said you were better! _SHE_ said you were better! You can’t just lie like that and leave, not now!”

Blake’s heart broke a little more at this sight, though there was little left to break.

The familiar woman continued to scream, her words eventually becoming gibberish, while Blake slipped further into something akin to a trance. It was all coming to pieces, every bit of it, and there was nothing left that she could do.

The faunus turned her gaze back to her lover, who she was now certain had passed, and she saw it again. The upside-down black cross, glowing brilliantly like a dying star before it turned to ash and blew away.

Weiss caught up at the very moment that Ruby, completely stripped of all senses, gave one final, banshee yell. She watched in horror, putting two and two together instantly, as Ruby simply collapsed altogether and passed out like a light.

And observing all of this, unseen from his ethereal vantage in a corner of the room…

Death smiled.


	9. Laying the Sun to Rest

Chapter 8

Laying the Sun to Rest

 

α

 

“It’s the last rose of summer and all her company is gone…”

The words met the ether and danced toneless into the cloudy sky. Raindrops fell with unbroken constancy, cold and harsh and dour. They fought those words, those whispers from trembling lips, but lost out in the end. The words passed through unscathed and made for the heavens, their speaker left behind with tears streaming down her cheeks.

“No flower like her, no rosebud left behind. But I won’t leave you, wilted yellow rose. I’ll spread your petals across the world of my heart.”

She took a deep breath, stretching her chest. It felt so very tight. The ocean scent came in and settled. It tickled her nose and poked at her mind, but elicited no response aside from a scant few more tears. The tears were almost constant now. They had been the whole week, just like the cold rain, since she said goodbye. Not a final goodbye, only the last she knew was heard.

She hoped it was, at least.

“Oh no, I won’t leave you there alone on your wilted stem…” She said, loosing another whimper into the salty ether.

Footsteps sounded off behind her. They were soft and slow, almost cautious, but they could be heard over the downpour. Heels clicking softly on wetted concrete. A presence approached with them, one that had grown familiar to her. Very familiar, and very welcome too. Now, perhaps, more than ever.

“Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves o’er the bed, where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead.”

Ruby didn’t turn to look. She knew the voice and the presence with it. More than that, she didn’t want the woman to see _her_. So much, so very much, had come to pass. She did not want Weiss to see her reddened eyes or splotchy cheeks. Ruby didn’t know why, only that she did not want her to see.

“You have a good memory for pretty things, don’t you?” Ruby said. She lifted her gaze heavenward with vague hope the rain would wash the tears away. It did, and the cool touch of the sky-water felt wonderful on her flushed face.

“I don’t think it’s all that pretty.” Weiss said, coming to stand beside Ruby, “The man was talking about a dead lover. It’s more sad than anything…”

Ruby looked down and turned to Weiss. Sore sight be damned, she wanted to look her friend in the eye. She still had no love for the thought of being seen, but it mattered little and less.

“Saying goodbye to those you love can be very beautiful.” Ruby said, “It’s your last words to them, even if they don’t hear it. Why can’t that be pretty?”

Weiss looked into the silver eyes before her. She searched them for the meaning under the words, noting only in passing their redness. Whatever she hoped to see was not there. All in all her effort was wasted.

“The airship leaves in ten minutes.” Weiss said with a sigh. She let go of trying to read her partner, at least for the moment.

Ruby looked back to the waters beyond her vantage and the heiress left her side. She could not see the waters, hidden as they were by the deluge, but she looked all the same. It struck her as odd exactly how similar the sight was to a place she so often visited. Both in aesthetic as well as feel.

She stood there for a few minutes more before departing. The bag of luggage she toted behind her had soaked up enough rain to be nearly twice its weight, surely ruining a few of her belongings. Ruby didn’t care, nor did she even think about this. She simply sauntered off for the airship landing with her eyes on the ground and her mind in another place.

Another place that overlooked the sea, where there lay an all too familiar stone marker.

 

Ђ

 

Weiss awoke to the faint tapping of rain against glass. It amazed her that the sound could still rouse her. The weather had been the same for almost ten days now, letting up only a few times. Even then it wasn’t for long.

She sat up in her bed and stretched. Sleeping in a hotel of any less than four stars was still new to her, and had ravaged her equilibrium. The unfamiliar sheets, the distinctly economy feel of the bedding, the cheapness of the air—none of it sat well with her, not at all.

Yet, she found herself loathe to take issue with it. It was off putting and irritating, but she couldn’t seem to get truly angry or indignant.

A brief look around the room told her two things. First was that she couldn’t tell what time it was, as the overcast skies ensured scarcely little light. Second was that she couldn’t _see_ the cheapness of Patch’s finest hotel room, a miracle of no small welcome, for the exact same reason.

The heiress stood from the bed and made another round of stretching, this time for her back. She finished and was about to be off for the bathroom when the faintest whisper of a snore caught her ear. Weiss turned around and looked to the other bed. There she saw the silhouette of Ruby, curled up and clutching tightly to her pillow.

With that sight, Weiss remembered why she couldn’t get mad over the less than ideal accommodations. It was for her that she was doing this. At some point, the heiress had set herself second to another person. A most egregious act to the old Weiss Schnee, one the new found more acceptable.

Weiss sighed and went on about her morning business. She hoped it was morning, at least.

When the heiress finally emerged from the bathroom a half-hour later, Ruby was awake and the lights were on. She returned to the sight of the hotel in its full glory—or lack thereof—along with that of her partner, sitting up in bed, head propped against the backboard with her pillow. The woman looked just as off and dour today as she had when they left Vacuo. Little surprise, all things considered.

Weiss crossed the room, still drying her hair with a plain white towel, and took a seat on her own bed. She looked to the television her partner had turned on. It was presently tuned to the news—the weather, to be specific. Strangely, it seemed Ruby was keen to watch it muted.

“More rain, huh?” Weiss said, patting her locks with the towel.

Ruby shifted, hugged her knees to her chest and sighed.

“Think the funeral’s gonna get rained out?” She said.

“Let’s hope not.” Weiss replied, “The sooner this is all over with, the better.”

She stood and walked over to her suitcase. It stood beside a dresser of exceedingly low-quality wood. Weiss lifted the thing and set it on the dresser before opening it and removing her desired outfit. A simple choice—indistinct t-shirt and unassuming slacks, both black, along with her usual coat. With these draped over her arm, the heiress turned back for the bathroom. She was nearly there when she stopped and looked back to Ruby.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the profile of a woman she almost did not know. Same raven tresses, same silver eyes, same everything except for her demeanor. Something seemed lost and the heiress knew it. She knew it well...

Weiss sighed, deep and mournful, and said, “You know Ruby, you _can_ talk to me about it.”

The woman only shrugged in reply, so Weiss left it at that. Towel clutched loosely in her hand, she entered the bathroom and shut the door.

 

Ђ

 

The whole of Patch felt eerily consumed by the malaise that came with the rain. It was as if some force had gripped the very atmosphere all around, choking those within in its hold. Colors were dimmer and people appeared to have less life to them. Even the bright lights of the few cars passing by looked lusterless and hollow.

Weiss sighed. The umbrella she held for her and her partner was growing heavy, though she would never admit this. Ruby would surely take it if she asked, but she would not. They had only a little further to go now.

“So, what kind of a guy is your Dad?” Weiss said, trying for anything to break the ominous silence.

“A nice guy.” Ruby said.

Again, Weiss sighed. Every question she asked lately was met with this. A succinct, flat response—devoid of any real want for conversation. It was starting to get to her.

“Did he sound like he was doing well when you talked to him?” Weiss tried again.

“Uh huh…” Ruby groaned her reply.

No luck, the heiress realized, and likely no point. Grieving was a long and arduous process. Perhaps _she_ could get over such things well enough, having had little familial closeness for quite some time, but it felt like her partner could not. She hoped she was wrong, but doubted more and more that Ruby would be alright.

Their walk remained silent the rest of the way until they reached a café. Its red brick façade would have been warm and welcoming under other circumstances. In the gloomy rain, it looked like little more than another dull and lifeless shell—no different from every other building they passed.

Once they were under the green awning out front, Weiss opened the door for Ruby and both entered. It was bustling inside, but everyone looked like they had little going on. Coffee steamed and newspapers shuffled—lit warmly by the incandescent light overhead—but none appeared interested in much of anything.

Ruby looked around for a moment before heading off to a table by the window. Before following, Weiss wondered if the woman’s preference for such seating was somehow ingrained.

At the table sat a man somewhere in his early forties, by Weiss’s guess. Blonde hair and lavender eyes with somewhat of a strong chin. It was obvious at a glance that he had not touched a razor all week—the stubble on his face was well on its way to becoming a beard. The dishevelment of his clothes spoke volumes of how he must feel.

“Hey Rubes!” The man said, standing from his seat before either woman could take theirs. He put on a forced smile as he spoke. Not entirely forced most likely, based on how he swept Ruby into a tight hug, but enough for Weiss to pick up on.

“Hey Dad.” Ruby said. She patted the man’s back as if it were only a friendly hug.

“It’s good to see you.” He said after letting her go, “How are you holdin up?”

Ruby ignored him and Weiss nearly called her out for acting so. She didn’t assume to know the woman quite as much as a close friend, but this was certainly not how the heiress had thought she would act around her own father. She didn’t say anything in the end, only sat down to the table after Ruby.

The man’s face briefly showed his hurt, but the expression was replaced with another forced smile at once. He sat back down and flagged a waitress over.

“I’ll have a decaf with two sugars.” He told the woman after she asked for their orders.

“Atlesian Blend, no sugar.” Weiss said when the woman looked her way.

The waitress looked to Ruby, but got no response.

“And you, Ma’am?” She said with a friendly grin. Still nothing from Ruby.

“She’s making up her mind.” Weiss said, “I’m sure she’ll think of something here in a minute.”

Weiss flashed the waitress her own little grin and hoped it didn’t look as wrong as it felt. The woman seemed nonplussed. After she left, Weiss turned to Ruby.

The grey and gloom outside the window looked to have the woman’s attention. Her eyes appeared glued to something out there that only she could see. They stared, unmoving and unblinking.

“Did the doctors tell you anything, Ruby?” The man said, pulling Weiss’s attention away from Ruby’s silent vigil.

“Nothing they didn’t tell you.” Ruby replied, “Just said her heart gave out on her. No idea what could have caused it.”

They sat in silence for a while after that. Silence, that is, aside from the constant patter of the rain. No bustling conversation, no shuffling commotion from the other patrons. Only that rhythmic patter until the waitress returned with their orders.

The woman sat them down on the table, flashed a smile and said, “Enjoy!” before heading off to her other duties.

Weiss looked into the blackness of her cup. Its roiling surface smelled divine, as Atlesian ever did to her discerning palate, but it did not appeal to her. She had no inclination to drink it—despite the beverage being her favorite. Another look to her right told her why, though she knew without doing so.

Ruby’s empty stare into the ether.

“I want to bury her next to Mom.” The man said, breaking the silence.

“Sounds about right.” Ruby replied. If it elicited any emotion in her to hear that, Weiss couldn’t tell.

“I’m so sorry, I haven’t introduced myself!” The man blurted.

Weiss looked back to him and saw a hand extended to her. Looking up from the hand, she saw a smile that could only be hereditary. The same earnest, heartfelt smile that Ruby had given her in that alley. She wanted to puke for some reason, but took hold of the hand and shook it instead.

“I’m Taiyang.” He said with a vigorous grip and shake, “Ruby’s old man. And you must be Weiss, right?”

“Weiss Schnee of the Schnee Du—” Weiss began, returning the vigorous shake, before stopping herself abruptly, “I mean, yes. Weiss Schnee. Pleased to meet you, Taiyang.”

The man smiled a little wider.

“Tai’s just fine, Weiss. You’ve been good to my Rubes, so you’re ok in my book.”

Their handshake over, both took their seats again and resumed staring at their drinks. Neither moved to touch the steaming cups, neither spoke another word. Once again, the patter of the rain took its place as the only sound and Weiss’s mind returned to fretting.

“When’s she gonna get here?” Ruby said.

“Should be any minute now.” Taiyang replied with a worried look.

“Did she say anything else to you, Taiyang?” Weiss said before finally touching her coffee. She didn’t lift it off the saucer, only wrapped aa single finger around the handle.

“I assume your question means you got the same vague message?”

“Meet me at your sister’s favorite café.” Ruby said, repeating the text she had gotten on her scroll that morning.

“That’s about it.” Taiyang said, picking up his coffee and taking a sip. If the scalding-hot ichor hurt, he didn’t show.

Weiss was going to offer her own thoughts when the sound of a bell stopped her. It was quiet enough, but in the odd atmosphere of the café it carried distinct and sharp. Much more so than it should have. All three turned to look. Taiyang and Weiss with actual interest, Ruby with only passing curiosity. The faunus that entered was one that only Taiyang knew with any real familiarity.

Her eyes were about the liveliest thing Weiss had seen all day—piercing, golden and keen. They flicked to the trio immediately. The woman was soaked to the bone—she had either forgotten or not cared enough to bring an umbrella—but did not appear to mind the cool air in the building. She approached quickly, pulled a seat from a nearby table and joined them.

Weiss was briefly unsettled by being so close to a faunus, but pushed the emotion away.

“I’m glad you guys came.” She said.

“It’s good to see you, Blake.” Taiyang said, holding out a small menu to her, “Wanna order a drink first?”

Blake looked to the little booklet, then back to him. The grave expression on her face said all that needed saying, and he retracted the offered menu. Blake then sighed and slid a simple backpack—a small, compact thing she’d had for some years—from her back and set it on the table. She unzipped it and pulled something out.

Something red and tightly wrapped up with a piece of twine.

“Before I say what I need to…” Blake said, casting a quick look to Ruby, “Yang wanted her sister to have this if she… if anything ever happened.”

Ruby was finally pulled away from whatever fascinated her outside the window. She had looked back into the grey after Blake’s initial entrance, but now turned and focused on the faunus—more so on the red thing being held out to her.

“Yang wanted you to have this, Ruby.” Blake repeated herself, inching the thing closer.

Ruby reached out and wrapped one shaking hand around it. She brought it close to herself as though it were some captivating treasure. Her silver eyes watered up and a few tears fell freely, running down her cheek and dripping onto the red fabric in her hand.

“What happened to my sister…” Ruby whispered, not quite asking, as she placed the thing on her lap, “What killed Yang?”

Weiss and Taiyang held their breath. Both wanted the answer as well, but neither dared to push for it. The push was on Ruby’s end and the ball was in Blake’s court.

“I’m sorry I ran off at the hospital.” Blake said, “But there’s a lot to tell. A lot going on. I wasn’t in a good spot that day—I’m still not, but I’m better now.”

Blake raised her hand and flagged the waitress. She gave off a powerful presence by merely being there. Perhaps it was the sort of celebrity factor carried by such a well-known huntress. Whatever it was, it worked a charm and the waitress popped up immediately.

“Can I get you something, Ma’am?” She said, notepad and pen in hand.

“Whatever the Princess is having. No sugar, lots of milk.” Blake said, glancing at Weiss.

The heiress’s blood began to boil a bit, but she pushed the comment aside. She could already tell she didn’t like this faunus much—she didn’t like faunus in general—but had other concerns on her plate. With a brusque clearing of her throat, she looked away and ignored it.

“Right away.” The waitress said and was off again.

Weiss took another sip of her coffee while Blake began to rummage around in her backpack again. She let her mind wander to other places while the beverage teased her palate. Back to the University and what was beginning to feel like a different life. Back to the elite society and high lifestyle she had once thought would be impossible to let go of. Back to her muster class, where she had met the woman she now cared enough for to be second to.

Lastly, her mind turned to the woman that was nearly a spitting image of herself. The white hair, the icy-blue eyes, and the powerful mien were conjured into her mind’s eye when a buzzing started in one of her pockets. The ring came shortly after and Weiss was feeling around for it in the next moment. She found it quickly enough and flipped it open.

‘Winter’ flashed across the display as the scroll continued to ring.

 

Ͼ

 

“Excuse me, I have to take this.” Weiss said before standing up from the table. In her hurry to leave and answer the call in private, she almost knocked over the table and fully ignored her present company.

Ruby watched her go with a blank stare while Taiyang showed a sense of curiosity in his eyes. Blake watched as though it were something she had expected, and in a way it was. The high and mighty have little need for manners around their lessers, as she believed.

None of this was either felt or seen by Weiss. She exited the café and took a spot as far from the door as she could while staying under the awning. The rain had picked up in its intensity, but was not yet blowing sideways. With any luck it would stay that way long enough for her call.

She clicked the answer button as quick as she could—just after the fourth ring—and placed it to her ear. With a hiss of dissatisfaction and disappointment, she answered.

“Hello?”

“ _Hello, Weiss._ ” Winter’s voice answered back with poorly hidden ire. The heiress knew she had messed up but hoped she could play it off.

“How are things, sister?” She said, trying to sound sincere.

“ _You said_ one _week._ ” Winter replied, “ _It’s been two now. Where are you?_ ”

“I know what I said.” Weiss agreed, “Something’s come up though. I’m going to need another week or two…”

There was a pause and Weiss could’ve sworn she heard a fatigued sigh. After this came only silence. A minute passed and she began to worry when a chill ran up her spine, raising gooseflesh all along her arms and neck. She wrote it off to the wind.

“ _This isn’t like you, Weiss._ ” Winter said, breaking the silence.

“What’s not like me?” Weiss replied, almost indignant, when another chill ran through her. The thought she might be getting sick was brief and ignored.

“ _Your grades are going to suffer if you miss this much time._ ” Winter said after another sigh, “ _Father won’t be happy and neither will I. Now tell me, Weiss—what is so important you’d take all this time off?_ ”

The words stung. It wasn’t as though they were untrue—quite the opposite, in fact. This _was_ going to hurt her grades, piss off her father and sister as well as look bad on her. Only those without drive would find a reason to push studies or work aside. She had drive, much and more, and was not one of them. She had goals and objectives and all the capability in the world to reach them, but the words still stung.

Then a pair of silver eyes zipped through her thoughts, and she remembered. A deep breath, a slow exhale and one quick image gave her all she needed to answer. With gusto _and_ with honesty.

“My friend’s sister died.” Weiss said, sounding different even to her own ears, “I’m acting as support for her. The funeral is tomorrow and we’ll probably be another week out before our return.”

“ _You have a friend?_ ” Winter said with little attempt to hide her surprise.

“I- uh…” Weiss stuttered, but could produce no more. The incredulity of Winter’s tone, so obvious and unhidden, stunned her. More than that, the truth in her sister’s shock—or the reason for it, as it were—was not lost on her.

The heiress tried a few more times but fell silent when further stutters were all she could offer. A warm feeling slid across her cheek and tickled her cool skin. She brushed it away and looked up, into the grey mass beyond the awning. It hardly looked like clouds at all. The scene in the heavens above looked like wet concrete. Something was so wrong, but she simply could not place her finger on it.

“ _Must be an important friend._ ” Winter said, and Weiss’s face was suddenly hot. The cool imparted by the rain left all at once.

“She is.” Weiss said. She wanted to say more—probably should have said more. She did not.

There was another stretch of silence. Weiss was about to set into fretting and second-guessing herself when Winter spoke again.

“ _Be careful, Weiss. Don’t get in over your head._ ” This time _her_ voice was different. In a sense it seemed warm, maybe even empathetic.

“I’ll keep you up to date.” Weiss said, reining in her wild thoughts, “Will you keep this between us?”

“ _I’ll do what I can._ ” A pause, then, “ _Just don’t lose track of your priorities…_ ”

What exactly were her priorities now? Was this _still_ just her putting a friend before herself? Weiss thought so—or wanted to, at least. Things were starting to become harder to keep track of, though. Things were different and she found her self-questionings becoming more and more commonplace. And if her priorities were shifting? If things were moving around on her list of importance, was that so bad?

The answer was not yet there for her, no matter how hard she looked, and she could feel Winter growing impatient on the other end.

“I’m still a Schnee.” Weiss said, hoping it was enough.

“ _Try not to forget that._ ” Winter said, and the line went dead with a click.

Weiss looked at the scroll and sighed. She slid it shut, turned and walked to the café door. A cold gust of wind blew under the awning and nearly bowled her over before she could grab the door-handle. The heiress braced herself, pushed the hair from her eyes and looked into the wind. No real idea why, she simply did it.

“I am… aren’t I?” She asked the howling grey, and went inside.

 

Ђ

 

Ruby watched Weiss leave. A brief pang shot through her and was gone as quick as it came. Once her friend had disappeared out the door, she turned her eyes back to the rolled up red thing on her lap. She placed it on the table and stared at the twine like it wasn’t to be trusted.

“What killed her?” Ruby said again, almost demanding.

Blake’s own stare was locked to the fabric in Ruby’s hands. The day Yang had gotten it was still fresh in her memory. The thing was supposed to be a graduation gift for her kid sister and Yang had told her many times how proud she was for thinking of it. Ruby would absolutely love it; she had been so certain. Now, seeing the dejected woman look at it with her dead stare, Blake wondered.

When no answer came, Ruby took hold of the twine. With a shaking grip, she pulled it until the knot came undone.

“A letter?” Ruby mused once the thing had unfurled.

Indeed, there lay but two things within the red fabric. A simple letter, sealed with a cartoonish postage-stamp, and a rose-shaped pendant—it was silver and shone like a star under the incandescent light. These sat upon what appeared to be a cloak. No longer wound up tight like a scroll, it looked like a folded up cape with a hood.

“Ruby…” Taiyang said, his voice dreamy, “Unfold that and hold it up. Let me have a better look at it…”

She was fairly entranced, but Ruby did as her father asked. She took hold of the fabric and stood. Once fully unfolded, it reached to the floor and pooled at her feet. It was indeed a cloak and just as scarlet red as newly bloomed roses.

“That looks just like your Mom’s.” Taiyang said with a sparkle in his eye, “If it were white on the outside, I might’ve thought it _was_ hers.”

“Oh Yang…” Ruby muttered. She bunched the cloak up and hugged it to herself, fell into her seat and started to cry. Quiet sobs, but the force of it rocked her shoulders.

Taiyang looked away, realizing his comment was in poor taste and timing. Blake reached out for a moment as if to console the woman, but pulled her hand back just before contact. She missed Yang already—just over a week out. She couldn’t imagine how her sister must feel.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean much…” Blake said, “But Yang wouldn’t want you mourning her. I know you need to though…”

Her own words didn’t make sense, and Blake regretted saying anything at all. It came as a large relief when she heard the café door open and turned to see the heiress waltz back in. The haughty demeanor of the woman irked her—even at a glance—but she tried to pay it no mind.

Weiss crossed to them and took her seat again in silence. Her face almost looked alarmed. Blake was the only one to notice this and said nothing of it.

“Tell me now.” Ruby said. Her tone was grave and demanding, something Weiss had never heard from her.

Blake looked to the woman and sighed. It was finally time to get it off her chest it seemed.

“ _Not here._ ” Weiss said all of a sudden.

The heiress didn’t realize she had said anything at all until she saw the others looking at her. She had already lifted her cup to have a sip of the now-cold coffee when she noticed their stares. The cup found its way back to the saucer while she looked from each pair of questioning eyes to the other.

“What?” Weiss said with no small indignation, “Did I spill some on me?”

“Why not here?” Blake said, thinking the woman was trying to pull something.

She knew the Schnee family—who didn’t? This set her bar of trust and respect for the heiress low from the start, unfamiliarity notwithstanding.

“What do you mean?” Weiss demanded, and her confused tone got through to Blake.

The heiress had no clue she had said anything at all. With a sigh, Blake let it go and decided it best not to press the matter. She picked up her coffee, which the waitress had brought while Ruby was sobbing into her gifted cloak, and downed it in one go. She then stood and made for the door.

“Let’s go home and talk about this, eh Rubes?” Taiyang said before Blake could exit.

Blake looked back and saw the woman’s face leave the folds of her cloak. The red-streaked eyes and splotchy cheeks stung her heart to see. She had only seen Yang cry twice, and both times her face looked exactly the same. Being around Ruby was becoming less and less appetizing as the resemblances continued to crop up.

“Come on.” Blake said, turning back to the door, “Let’s go get this over with.”

Taiyang stood and walked to the door. Once out, he quickly hailed a cab while the others followed. Ruby packed away the unopened letter and followed her father. Weiss came shortly behind, casting a brief and vaguely spiteful glance to Blake as she walked out. The faunus held the door for the other three and left last.

Before exiting, a chill ran down Blake’s spine and stopped her in her tracks. She spun around and scanned the café, none too sure why. When it became clear there was nothing there, she left.

Nothing she could see, at least.

 

Ђ

 

When they reached Ruby’s childhood home, the rain had finally let up a little. It was no longer a pounding torrent just short of turning sideways. Now it had resolved to more of a heavy drizzle—still cold and ominous, much to the chagrin of all.

Taiyang held the door and the three women entered. It was obvious from the first step that he’d left a decent bed of embers in the covered hearth, as the house was warm and welcoming. They were glad to be greeted by this, especially Weiss. In keeping her partner covered with the umbrella and guiding the preoccupied woman for most of their walk from the main road, she had gotten quite soaked herself.

They spread out across the living area. Blake found a corner and posted up, leaning against the wall, close to the smoldering hearth. Ruby sauntered in like one of the living dead and collapsed onto the large sofa in the center of the room. She still held the bunched up cloak to herself, like some sort of charm, and sobbed. It was weaker now, but Weiss could make out the faint jump of her shoulders.

“Hey Weiss.” Taiyang called softly.

The heiress turned and saw him motioning to her. She walked over to him, standing in a little arch that likely led further into the house, to see what he wanted.

“Go down the hall and up the stairs at the end.” He said, pointing to a flight she could barely make out in the dim light, “Turn right at the top and hit the second door. You’ll find some dry clothes that should fit.”

Weiss opened her mouth to ask what it was all about, but decided not to scrutinize the obvious kindness. She started down the hallway when his voice caught her ear again.

“Just try to avoid the yellows.” He said, sounding somewhat more somber, “It was Yang’s favorite color—might upset Rubes. I don’t want you sitting around here soaking wet, but she’s got enough to deal with.”

“Thank you.” Weiss said, “I’ll find something in a neutral color. I prefer those anyway.”

They shared a companionable grin and Weiss went on. She found the room easily enough, just as he said, and picked out a simple outfit. Thankfully her undergarments were dry, so she only took a pair of black chinos and an unremarkable grey shirt. Not much different from what she had on, all said and done, which the heiress noted with passing interest.

While Weiss changed, Taiyang rejoined the others in the living area. He took a seat on the sofa by Ruby and, in a very fatherly manner, tossed an arm over her. He pulled her into a half-hug and began to gently rub her head.

“It’s gonna be ok, Rubes.” He cooed.

Ruby made no fuss. If anything at all, she appreciated the little bit of affection. Blake watched this from her corner-post and again her heart panged. Memories can be such terrible things in times of hurt—even more so when they are good ones.

“You’re probably not going to believe most of what I have to tell you.” Blake said after a few moments watching them. She wanted it over with so she could head off and figure out what to do with herself now.

The scene before her was only making it harder.

“What was it…” Ruby muttered, pushing her father away and sitting up straight.

The look on Taiyang’s face was nothing short of hurt. He cast his eyes to the floor as if to observe the carpet. Blake kept her silence—coming up with how to say this was no easy feat—and the minutes began to tick by. It was when Weiss reentered the room, sporting drier clothes that fit oddly well, that Blake decided to finally say her piece.

“We were after a man wanted in all four kingdoms for murder.” Blake said.

Taiyang stood up suddenly and headed toward the kitchen. He stopped just short of where the wood floor became tile and turned back to them.

“I’m gonna fix us something to eat.” He said, “Hope you’re all good for tuna.”

And with that he left them to it. Blake’s golden eyes briefly glinted at the mention of the food, but she turned her mind back to the matter at hand in the next instant.

“Like I said, we were after a wanted murderer. No name, no aliases, no real info about him except his preferred attire. A man in a black cloak was all we had to go on…”

“Aren’t huntresses supposed to _hunt Grimm_?” Weiss said.

Blake cast a look her way that was mixed disgust and astonishment.

“Aren’t the Schnees supposed to be exceedingly intelligent and well-informed?” She retorted with a sneer.

Weiss—blood once more boiling and indignation rising—managed to rein her tongue in at the last moment. This was not her stage and not her play. She knew this and decided to let it go, once again, for Ruby’s sake.

“Point taken.” Weiss said before taking a seat next to Ruby, “Please continue.”

“We’ve been on his trail for two years now.” Blake went on without missing a beat, “From Atlas to Vale to Vacuo, and somewhere beyond that…”

She put all her weight on the wall and slid to the floor.

“We entered the Vacuan Badlands about three months ago. The trail had gotten very fresh and we were sure the bastard was almost in our reach. Every day reinforced that fact to us, so we pushed on like madwomen.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened to my sister?” Ruby piped in.

Blake looked up from her absent stare at the wooden floor. The eyes she met were empty save for a faint flicker of fury. Not for her, no, but it _was_ there.

“I’ll get to that.” Blake said, hating that look in the Ruby’s eyes, “But you need to hear the whole thing.”

Ruby kept up her glare and Blake looked away, back to the floor. She began to trace the knots in the wood as she picked up her tale again, hoping to distract herself so she could get it all out.

“I don’t think we were even in Vacuo anymore when it happened. Following after him led us across a desert, along an unnatural riverbed, through a valley, and finally… to the second most impossible thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Second?” Weiss said, now thoroughly intrigued.

“Yeah.” Blake agreed, “The _most_ impossible thing came later. What we saw was like a giant lake—water just as blue as a dream. It was sunken too, like the earth had tried to swallow it up.”

“Nowhere like that on any map _I’ve_ ever seen.” Weiss said.

“Let her speak, Weiss.” Ruby said, her tone almost angry.

“We managed to cross it after encountering a Grimm that looked like a giant shark.” Blake went on, feeling gooseflesh on her neck at the memory, “I passed out for most of that, but when I came to we were on an island at the lake’s center. Once we pulled ourselves back together, it was a ‘no turning back’ sorta deal. So we had a look around.

“Didn’t take much to find this giant wall. Thing was white as snow and bigger than most buildings I’ve seen, even in Atlas. When we finally got in, after a good chunk of it collapsed, there was an entire city behind it.”

Blake turned her gaze from the floor to the hearth and stared into the last flickering embers. The recollection was turning out to be more painful than she had expected. But as much as she wanted to stop her telling, something kept pushing her on. Something just beneath the skin, much like a whisper.

_Let that one with the silver eyes know…_

She shook her head a few times and took a deep breath. This was shaping up to be a very painful ordeal…

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful and horrible at the same time.” Blake went on, “Flawless white buildings, fountains all around spouting the same blue lake-water, streets paved with actual gold… and tombstones as far as the eye could see.”

Weiss gasped. She couldn’t decide if she believed it all or not, but it was almost like a clear picture had entered her mind. If Blake could have seen it, she would have known it was what she and Yang saw in that place. Like a photograph, not a memory or imagining.

“We eventually found him once we pulled ourselves together. I wish I could say how long it took, but—and I know this sounds crazy—it was like time… well, it was like there _was no time_. It didn’t just feel like it was out of whack, but more like it wasn’t there at all…”

Blake shuddered. Ruby continued to stare, unmoving and silent, but Weiss was beginning to find herself unnerved. The words coming from the faunus in the corner were all too real.

“When we finally caught up to him it was in a giant palace. And as if everything else wasn’t crazy enough, _this_ was where I saw the most impossible—and terrifying—thing I have ever seen.

“We went in and it was like we left Remnant behind. There were doors all around us in this empty space and a giant white throne at the center of the room. And there he sat, like some awful king.”

“He did it?” Ruby said, her tone now reflecting the anger Blake saw in her eyes. Weiss heard it too and felt another pain run through her heart.

“ _It_ killed her.” Blake said, grave and serious, as she finally returned Ruby’s intense stare.

“It?” Ruby parroted.

“He talked to us like he knew something. When he attacked—When _it_ attacked, it was like nothing I’ve ever seen. It looked like a corpse at first, but turned into something worse than any Grimm.”

“What could possibly be worse than a Grimm?!” Weiss said with unhidden alarm.

“This thing, Princess.” Blake replied, and went on, “It moved so fast I couldn’t even see. I’m sorry Ruby, but I couldn’t even join the fight. And Yang was no match, not at all, for whatever the hell it was. The fight was over before I realized it had really begun.

“It claimed to be ‘Old Man Death’ and said something about Yang ‘not being the one’. Then it acted like it was… going to kill her, right there, but stopped. It touched her forehead instead and told me to tell you all of this, then tossed us both through one of those doors like a couple of broken dolls.”

“What did he do to her?!” Ruby shouted.

“That touch left some kind of mark on her—a black, upside-down cross. I don’t really remember much after being thrown through the door, though. When I came to, we were in the hospital. You know the rest from there…”

Blake looked away from the hearth and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to hold back the tears, but they won out in the end. Two of the women in the room cried during the few minutes of silence that followed. Soft and quiet, it was hardly audible. Weiss, the only one whose eyes remained mostly dry, couldn’t even begin to comprehend or believe Blake’s story. Yet, in a very unsettling way, it felt true…

The heiress had known many liars in her life. If this faunus was another, she couldn’t tell.

“I’m going to bed.” Ruby said after a good five minutes. Her voice wobbled with all the crying but held just enough to be understood.

She stood and left the room without another word. Weiss watched until she had gone beyond the arch and turned back to Blake, who still sat sobbing to herself. Despite her feelings toward her, justified to any degree or not, the sight hurt to see. She knew huntresses were no small matter and that this one was something of a legend in the field, making the display all too human. All too relatable…

“I’m guessing no one really wants dinner.” Taiyang said.

Weiss and Blake turned to see him standing just outside the kitchen. One brief look around and he read the situation well. With a sigh, he walked on into the room and stretched.

“There’s two guestrooms upstairs.” He said after popping his back, “You can both have your pick. Blankets are in the hall closet.”

Blake gave him a look of gratitude while Weiss could only eye him with confusion.

“There’s no need to go back out in that awful weather.” Taiyang said, more to the heiress than Blake, “Stay the night here. I’ll make sure you’re all up early enough to get ready for the funeral. Now go on and get some sleep.”

Upon standing to protest the offer, and politely decline if at all possible, the fatigue of the day and all its emotions hit Weiss like a brick wall. It didn’t take much coaxing from there for her to agree. Blake was a tad more averse to it, but gave in as well after some small persuading. From there they all turned in, after Taiyang had doused the last of the hearth, but none noticed the fifth among them.

All said and done, none could’ve if they’d tried.

 

Ψ

 

Everyone got up early to more of the same mess. Dour moods, grey skies, cold rain and all the silence one could choke on. Taiyang tried a few times during breakfast—tuna prepared the previous night with some plain rice—to hold a conversation worthwhile. No one joined him and he gave up after the third try. Weiss did offer a compliment on his cooking, but this went no further.

The cold crept throughout the house while they all got ready, casting a pallor despite to match the dreary day. Blake’s typical attire was already in standard funeral colors, so she wore what she had. Weiss’s borrowed outfit was much the same. Taiyang dug up a fitting set of black slacks and a black blazer to toss over a simple white shirt.

The three of them had gathered in the living room and were waiting in yet more silence when Ruby finally emerged from the upstairs. The crackling hearth threw dancing reds and oranges across the room, catching and accenting the outfit she had chosen. Weiss found herself breathless at the sight, despite the circumstances.

This time, the question _why_ didn’t cross her mind at all.

Ruby’s outfit consisted of a solid black dress that looked like it belonged in the heiress’s wardrobe. An innocuous bodice wrapped around a frock with sleeves to her wrists. The sleeves were puffed and a petticoat filled out the knee-length skirt. The thing that drew everyone’s attention was the stark-red cloak over all this, clasped by the rose pendant just below her collar.

“It’s about time, right?” Ruby said, sounding dead as the night before, and walked to the door. She spared none of them even a second look.

The three shared a brief glance and left without another word. The trip from the house to the funeral—in another cab—was equally as silent as breakfast. Once more, it seemed Ruby found something in the grey skies that caught her eye. She stared out the window the whole way, silent and motionless.

They arrived to a crowd the likes of which even Weiss had never seen. The heiress stared in shock at what must have been a few thousand people and faunus. Bustling bodies filled the little knoll and stretched all along the path up to the small funeral home at its crest. There were hunters and huntresses; there were police and military personnel; there were men, women and children of all walks of life. To her slight alarm, Weiss even managed to spot a small group of faunus sporting White Fang attire.

“I’m surprised there aren’t more…” Blake said, standing just to the heiress’s left, “After that herd of Grimm we stopped on the outskirts of Vale, you’d think the whole kingdom would’ve shown up.”

“Yang was pretty famous, huh?” Weiss mused in reply.

“ _Blazing Sol_ was known all across Remnant, Princess. There might be twenty people here that knew Yang. The rest knew Blazing Sol, and that’s who they’re here to mourn.”

“Missed indeed she shall be.” Said a very familiar voice.

Weiss spun around so quick she nearly fell over. To her utter amazement, there stood Mister Axter and her own father. Only some ten yards off stood Winter as well, presently having some sort of conversation with an Atlesian honor guard. Weiss’s stomach twisted and turned.

“Tell us Winter did not.” Axter said, scratching his neck, “Knew I did that passed she had. Ears everywhere have I, Weiss, and miss this for anything I would not.”

Without another word, Mister Axter hobbled off on his twisted wooden cane. He barely reached most of the other guest’s waists as he made his way through the crowd, but the comedy of this sight was lost on Weiss. She turned back to look her father’s way and saw the man headed for her sister. Both were now giving orders to the soldiers—instructions on when and how to fire the salute, undoubtedly—and wearing looks that could easily be mistaken for disgust.

Head spinning and stomach churning, Weiss turned away to say something to Ruby. A question maybe, or even just a simple condolence, but the woman was nowhere to be found. Another look around and she managed to spot the red hood—likely pulled up to fend off the cold drizzle—bobbing through the crowd.

The heiress swallowed the lump in her throat and followed, ignoring the almost painful chill that shot through her spine.

 

Ψ

 

Weiss was still amazed with the organization of the massive gathering when it all culminated. In what felt like no time at all, the entire procession began to work through the funeral home and bid their individual respects. One by one, every man, woman and child approached the casket and said their goodbyes. Some left little gifts—mostly trinkets or flowers, though a few placed letters and keepsakes in too—while others even planted a kiss on the woman’s forehead. A cultural thing, the heiress assumed.

When her own turn came around, Weiss felt odd beyond reason. Something foreboding reached out to her, but beyond that was the realization that this was her first meeting with her partner’s sister—her _friend’s_ sister. It was at a funeral and the woman was dead as they came. But she looked so very peaceful, so entirely unbothered by the whole predicament. And if her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her, Weiss might’ve even sworn she could see a smile on her face.

“Rest well…” The heiress whispered. Then, without thinking about it, she reached behind her neck and undid a clasp.

She’d all but forgotten about the necklace that had been around her neck since they left the University. The dainty thing came off and pulled away like a ghost. She picked up Yang’s left hand and wrapped the delicate chain around it, then placed it back on her chest. With a final bow, Weiss stepped away and the procession went on.

The rest of it went smoothly. It was like there had been some clandestine rehearsal, what with the way everyone moved as if in lockstep. None lingered or outright bawled. Many cried—even Mister Axter, much to the heiress’s amazement—but none let go and lost it. They said their farewells, left their offerings and moved on.

At some point, Weiss lost track of Ruby and the rest. The crowd was massive and she assumed they must have found their way to other, more well-known acquaintances and friends. It hurt a bit to assume such, but she let it go and looked for her own family while the procession headed to the bottom of the knoll.

Her father was the easiest to spot. The man’s regal mien and distinct attire could be discerned from almost any distance by the heiress. She walked over to them quickly and joined their march beside the honor guard.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Weiss.” He said, never breaking his forward stare.

“I told Winter my friend’s sister had died.” Weiss replied.

“I didn’t expect your friend to be _her_ sister.” Winter said, keeping pace and stare just like their father.

“Is this why you tossed your education aside?” Her father said with a scowl.

“I didn’t _toss_ my education, Father.” Weiss said, and she believed it. Thinking about it though, that was a somewhat different story. She _had_ begun to wonder...

“Considering the circumstances, I’m going to overlook it. But when this business is over I expect you to remember what’s important, Weiss. Don’t let something _silly_ come between you and what’s important.”

They marched in silence from there, moving alongside the massive body of mourners. The Atlesian soldiers looked like a well-oiled machine meant for a military competition, not an honor guard for one individual. Again Weiss found herself moved by the sight, and again she found herself thinking of her father’s words.

What _was_ important now?

The procession came to a halt when the pallbearers reached the grave. Finding she couldn’t see from her vantage by the honor guard, Weiss broke away. Like a lost child, she pushed and squeezed through the crowd as politely as possible. She reached a break in the mourners and emerged at the front—directly before the grave—and saw something she could never have been ready to.

Ruby stood as the lead pallbearer on the left side, Taiyang on the right. They held the massive gilded casket like a couple of stone sentinels. No emotion on either of their faces, not even the expected sorrow. Only the most blatant look of gravity and duty the heiress had ever seen occupy her friend’s face. Before she could think on it further, the preacher emerged from behind the pallbearers.

He stepped atop a podium and placed a dusty old book on it. With a clearing of his throat and a straightening of his glasses, the old man opened the book to a marked passage and began to read.

“Bereaved friends and family, we have gathered here today to bid farewell to a most beloved huntress.” He began with a voice deep enough to shake the earth, “Blazing Sol as she was known across the Four Kingdoms, Yang Xiao Long as she was known to close friends and family. A bright light taken from us far too soon.”

His words were broken by no less than some hundred loud cries. A good many had reached their limit and were no longer able to hold it back. Weiss felt nothing for them, but instead found herself looking back to Ruby. The casket was still held aloft by its bearers and the woman had a steady stream of tears running down her reddening cheeks.

_That_ hurt to see.

“A few of her closest acquaintances have some words to say before we give her back to the Dust.” The preacher said before stepping down. He took a spot beside the podium with his hands clasped in front of him while Blake came to take his place.

“Thank you all for coming.” Blake said, trying to hold her own emotions at bay, “Yang was a good woman—a caring friend, a stalwart fighter, a sincere idealist and a paragon among huntresses. My time with her is time I will never regret. It was time well spent and left me memories I’ll cherish forever. I’m sure I speak for us all when I say she will be sorely missed…”

Blake paused and scanned the mourners. Her eyes landed on a White Fang standing at the front of their little cluster and she went on.

“Brothers and sisters of the White Fang! I speak to you as well, and thank you for putting aside your enmity to attend. We might have been on opposing sides at times, but our pursuit of the one who murdered your leader brought us together in a like cause! So I thank you for coming to pay respects, even if she _was_ once your enemy.”

Once Blake finished her piece, she stepped down and Taiyang ascended. He cast a sorrowful look across the crowd before saying his own.

“I still remember the day my daughters first told me they wanted to be huntresses.” He said, choking up but pushing through, “They were both barely tall enough to reach the sink without a stool. Then the day came when an accident stopped my youngest from pursuing that dream. At the hospital, Yang swore she would make it happen for both of them.

“And she did. Yang breezed through Signal like a woman possessed and went on to Beacon. She became one of its most prestigious graduates and soared only higher from there. Along with her partner, Miss Nightshade here, her exploits saved countless lives across all of Remnant. But never in all that time did she forget what meant the most to her. Never once did Yang let go of why she was doing it or what was pushing her to _keep_ doing it.”

He stopped and leaned over the podium, shaking like a leaf against the overwhelming emotion. Almost a minute passed before Taiyang recovered enough to go on. He stood straight and cast a powerful look into the body of people.

“Yang fought Grimm and man alike—whatever got in the way of keeping her promise! She wouldn’t let anything stop her from keeping that promise to her sister! That may have led her here, to such an early grave, but I know she wouldn’t have it any other way… So let us all bid her a fond and thankful farewell, not forgetting that she did what was important to her!”

When he finished, Taiyang’s speech served as something of a rallying cry. The crowd still gave off a mass sense of shared mourning when Ruby took to the podium, but it also gave off a clear aura of shared pride. When Taiyang relieved his sit-in pallbearer, even _he_ looked somewhat better off. Like a weight had been lifted, if only a little.

“My sister…” Ruby said, then stopped. Her voice was off by a mile to Weiss’s ear and her eyes looked like she’d rubbed sand in them.

The heiress watched in silent horror as Ruby shook. When she finally recovered enough to go on, the heiress wished she could do something—anything at all—to lessen the burden. Even if only a little, it would be better than nothing.

“My sister was my role model.” Ruby said at last, looking over the crowd as if accusing them, “She was the greatest person I have _ever_ known. No matter what was wrong, she would do anything she could to fix it. She almost always turned to her fists first, but she never turned her back on someone in need!

“There’s so much I want to say, but none of it really matters now… I wish I could talk to her one more time—I’ve got so much to tell her about—but that won’t happen. So instead, I’ll say this: I miss you, Yang, and I hope you can rest peacefully up there with Mom.”

Ruby turned like she was going to exit the podium, but stopped. She turned back and looked to the hole below the stand, where the casket would soon be placed.

“Scatter softly, Sis…” She said, then walked off the stand.

The preacher took her place. Ruby resumed her spot as lead pallbearer, relieving the man who’d held it for her, and continued her sentinel vigil. The preacher cleared his throat and gave the final words.

“A final eulogy for the deceased.” He said, then looked to his book, “Man was born from Dust, and with Dust hath he shaped the land. By Dust hath man defied the Grimm. By Dust hath he built his kingdoms. By Dust hath man crawled from the edge of oblivion and made his home upon Remnant. For all these gifts, man must give back. In passing, we all return to the Dust—for it is from Dust we come and to Dust we must return.

“Yang Xiao Long, we commend your body to Remnant’s embrace! Rejoin the Dust and pass into immortality! Rest in peace and serenity among your forebears, standing as the vanguard to vouchsafe passage for those who come after you!”

The preacher raised his eyes and slammed the book shut.

“We bid you farewell, Yang Xiao Long! Find safe passage back to whence we all came!”

When he finished, the bearers stepped forward and placed the casket on its bed. All watched in rapt silence as the mahogany coffin disappeared into the earth, bidding a last farewell to their blazing sun. When the fillers began to shovel the dirt in, Ruby stepped in front of them. She tossed something in and ran off. Before chasing after her, Weiss peered into the grave to see what it was.

A ratty old book titled _‘Riddle-de-Dum’_ with two scribbled marks in crayon on its cover. She looked a little closer and saw it was the letters ‘R’ and ‘Y’, scrawled out as if by children who had just started trying to write. The worst pain yet tore through Weiss’s chest.

She looked up and ran after her friend, now beginning to worry more than ever.

 

α

 

Ruby ran like hell was at her heels. She had always been a fast runner. Ever since the days when she raced Yang, starting around the time she was seven, Ruby knew she was faster than most. The day she decided to pursue becoming a huntress was the day this became one of her proudest points. She trained it relentlessly and eventually made even the wind jealous.

The crowd blurred by first, so quick it looked more like one giant blob than thousands of people. Then it was only the tombstones all around and the grass beneath her feet. These looked like blobs of grey, white and green. Only a few moments after that, it was the forest surrounding the graveyard. She crossed the few hundred yards and entered the tree line in only a matter of seconds.

She disappeared inside and let go. Sure that none could see her, Ruby let every ounce of it flood out at once. Every tear, every shout, every scream—she let it all go while her feet carried her madly onward.

Her lungs began to burn. Her legs followed shortly after and Ruby knew it wouldn’t be long. The same reason she couldn’t join her sister was already beginning to crop up and haunt her again. The same thing that had disqualified her from Signal. The same thing that had kept her from fighting by Yang’s side.

“Damn it!” Ruby screamed at the top of her lungs.

She could feel her speed beginning to dip and pushed her legs all the harder. Her chest was quickly becoming numb, but Ruby didn’t care. It was all falling apart— _had_ fallen apart. So she pushed and pushed, pressing further into the pines and poplars. The cold air and rain began to bite into her, its effect amplified by her soaked clothes. This too went mostly unnoticed as the feeling began to leave the rest of her body and her mind started to go blank.

“DAMN IT!!” She screamed again with the last of her breath. Two steps after that, Ruby’s right foot found a rock and she went tumbling ass-over-teakettle.

The woman rolled through the last of the woods, bursting out of the tree line like a bowling ball. She tumbled a few more times and finally came to a rest. Ruby sat up slowly and began to rub her aching head. She opened her eyes and looked around. Somehow, she ended up exactly where she meant to go. Her eyes quickly found the marker on the edge of the cliff and the woman stood to her feet. She walked to it in a trance, entirely unaware of the presence watching her.

The wind blew hard and cold over the cliffside as Ruby approached the lonely stone grave-marker.

 

Ͼ

 

When Weiss left the crowd, only her sister took any real notice. Every other attendee was preoccupied with either open weeping or saying their last goodbyes. Weiss did not see Winter fall in behind her—following with nigh-perfect stealth—when she ran off after her friend.

For a second time the heiress had seen the woman tear off like a tornado turned on its side. So fast was Ruby’s egress, Weiss would’ve been out of luck altogether without the footprints left behind. It was obvious she could move with speed unimaginable, but it seemed her footfalls were no less heavy for it. The tracks she left were deep and almost perfect—the rainy weather had softened the ground and made it even better.

Weiss followed as quick as she could manage. She’d never been a slouch or shirked her exercise, but this was ridiculous. The distance to the timberline was a few hundred yards at least. By the time she finally reached it, running at her top speed, the heiress was already panting.

She stopped and leaned against a tall poplar, gripping her side and cursing her choice of footwear. Heavens only knew why, but she had decided heels would be all she’d need for the _whole_ outing. This had been at the beginning, now over two weeks ago, before they had even left the University. Rarely if ever was she so caught off guard—and in so very many ways—it never ceased to boil her blood when it happened.

“Come on, Weiss.” She hissed to herself, standing up straight, “You’ve come this far. May as well give it what you’ve got…”

With only a moment’s thought, Weiss kicked off her heels and picked them up. After taking another few moments to get over how awful the ground felt to her bare feet, she pressed on. Go big or go home, it would seem, was her choice.

The woods she ran through were thankfully sparse with debris. Little aside from pine needles littered the ground and the few briars she came across were easily avoided. Once or twice she came across a gully, but this was easily cleared. She had been renowned for the long jump when she was younger.

At last the end came into sight. The trees began to thin ever further until it finally opened up onto a clearing. There she stopped, just at the edge of the trees where a good ten yards stood between her and a cliff. This cliff led into a decent drop, and there near the edge stood the one she had chased after.

Weiss’s stomach sunk as she watched Ruby, standing not ten feet from the drop.

 

Ђ

 

“How are ya, Mom?” Ruby whispered.

She knelt down to touch the cold surface of the marker and began to trace her fingers over it. The carved letters never ceased to feel strange. No matter how many times she read them, they never stopped sounding wrong. It always felt like someone was playing an awful joke, but she knew that wasn’t the case.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited for a while…” Ruby said, speaking softly to the stone, “There’s a lot going on right now, though. I’m going to this really nice school and I’ve made an awesome friend. She acts cold and mean sometimes, but I know she’s a really good person inside. I’ve seen it…”

A single tear slid down her cheek. If she possessed the capability to think on it, she might’ve found it surprising there were any tears left. But she didn’t. As it stood, Ruby was doing well enough to talk at all. Introspection was off the table altogether.

“I’ll bet you and Yang are gonna have some neat things to talk about.” She said in a trembling voice, “I’ll bet you two are gonna get along really well.”

She had to stop for a moment. The pain was coming back with a vengeance. Her head felt like it was going to split and her eyes burned like they would melt at any moment.

Feeling the world spin, Ruby leaned over and pressed her head to the cold stone. It felt wonderful to her feverish skin. With a deep breath, she found the will to speak again.

“Please take care of Yang.” She managed to squeak out, “And Yang, you be sure to keep Mom company. I know she must have been lonely watching us for so long. So, please…”

Ruby found some strength and stood on her wobbling legs.

“Both of you, take care of each other.” She said, now staring over the roiling ocean below the drop.

The rustling of Weiss emerging from the woods went unheard. Ruby was off in her own place—her own hell, in no other words—and had no mind left to take in her surroundings. Her sight had tunneled and her ears heard no more than the raindrops all around.

Weiss watched for only a moment before starting her approach. She moved as soft as she could, trying not to be heard. Had she known the woman was so far gone, it likely wouldn’t have mattered. Her own mind was chasing the four winds. They were now unwitting partners in the same ship. Different destinations, maybe, but sitting in the same vessel.

The heiress began to strafe to the left and failed to notice the stone marker at Ruby’s feet when it came into view. Her eyes, her mind, and her very soul were all focused on one thing. So far as she could tell, the sorrow had driven her friend to the edge. Literally _and_ figuratively.

The wind picked up suddenly and blew hard across both of them. It came at just the right moment, carrying the loud crack of the salute from the funeral. Twenty rifles all going off at once split the air and the wind carried this to them, causing both women to jump in surprise.

To Weiss, it looked like she was doing it.

“RUBY!!” She screamed at the top of her lungs.

The heiress went into a sort of autopilot and lunged forward. Never in her life had she moved so fast. She crossed the ten feet between them in the blink of an eye, grabbed Ruby’s arm and lurched to her right. Both of them went sprawling into the mud as another round went off, sounding like thunder booming over their heads.

They tumbled twice before coming to a rest. Some way or another, Weiss ended up straddling Ruby’s waist and lay sprawled over the woman. When she opened her eyes and realized this, the muscles in her back couldn’t fire quick enough to lift her face away. The next moment, Weiss found herself staring into the silver eyes she had spent the last few weeks worrying so fiercely over.

They looked tired and hurt—even a bit confused.

“Ruby…” Weiss whispered, feeling her eyes begin to sting and water, “Why…”

Ruby stared up at her friend, wondering exactly what she’d done to deserve being tossed into the mud. The world was spinning, her head was hurting and her mind was still mostly lost to the ether. When she spoke, it felt like her mouth was full of cotton.

“What?” Ruby said with no small effort.

“You can’t jump!” Weiss screamed in reply, “I know this is bad—it’s just dreadful! But you can’t jump, Ruby!”

Again, Ruby could only stare up at the woman.

“Give it time, Ruby!” Weiss went on, oblivious to her friend’s confused stare, “If you’ll only give it _time_ , it will get better! There’s no reason to throw your life away!”

“What?” Ruby said again, now with a small bit of her senses restored.

“Your sister wouldn’t want this, I’m sure...” Weiss said, “Anyone so loved they could bring a crowd like this to their _funeral_ wouldn’t want something like this! And think of your Dad, Ruby… He’d be devastated!”

“Weiss, what are you talking about?”

The heiress opened her eyes. At some point in her raving, she’d shut them tight and begun to cry. Seeing her friend’s face, and realizing the woman hadn’t a clue what she was on about, Weiss sat up a little straighter. Ruby did too and, with Weiss sitting on her lap looking like a lost puppy, her heart settled a little. Things were falling to pieces all around her, but there was at least this.

_Something_ that hadn’t gone belly up yet.

“I thought you were gonna jump…” Weiss whispered, staring into the mesmerizing silver eyes before her.

Something clicked in Ruby’s head. Looking into the confused and bewildered heiress’s eyes—eyes that almost glowed with teary, icy glory—something simply fell into place. The pain of the whole debacle took a back seat and decided to simmer while another took its place at the forefront. Her heart thudded a few times in a most peculiar manner, her eyes started to water over again and her face nearly split with the widest smile she’d sported in weeks.

“Weiss you dolt…” Ruby cooed with her cheshire grin, “Why would I do that?”

Weiss really was confused by that. Not only the question, but her own lack of an answer. Why did she assume that? It was obvious. She assumed because she had seen. Long, long ago, as if in another life—but she _had_ seen it.

“You weren’t?” Was all she could manage.

“No.” Ruby said, “I’m hurting, I won’t lie, and I’m very tired from all of this. But I didn’t come here to jump, Weiss…”

Ruby pointed over Weiss’s shoulder. She turned around to see what it was and her eyes fell on the stone marker. How had she missed it?

“What’s that?” Weiss said in a dreamy tone.

“Mom’s memorial.” Ruby said, “I came here to visit it. Sorry if it looked… different, since I ran off like that…”

Weiss turned back around. She didn’t care all that much about the stone. It was Ruby she was worried over. Worried enough to go rolling in mud…

“Why’d you run off?” She said.

“I haven’t felt this way since Mom died…” Ruby muttered, looking down toward her hand, “It got to be too much. I just… needed to come here. I needed to talk to Mom…”

Ice Queen had been a popular and accurate moniker for Weiss throughout a good portion of her life. She was calculating, aloof, cold and ruthless—with both her actions and goals. Whatever she wanted, she would get it come hell or high water. Whatever she believed, those around her would believe the same or find some other space to occupy. For a long time, this didn’t bother her. If her heart was ice, so be it; it made for easier execution of her plans.

But that ice was gone now. And her exposed heart, beating in the open for once in her life, was breaking. Not for her, but for another.

“Will miracles ever cease…” Weiss muttered, to herself more than anything.

“Hm?” Was Ruby’s confused reply.

“Nothing…”

Ruby smiled again. This one not as wide, but a smile all the same. A warm one at that.

“I’m glad I got to know you, Weiss.” She said, which drew a wide-eyed glare from the heiress, “I really am. You’ve been a good friend to me.”

“What are you on about?” Weiss said, shocked. It almost sounded like her ungrounded assumption might actually have some merit to it.

Those silver eyes met hers again, and again her friend offered a sweet smile.

“I’m done trying to make this _normal life_ thing work.” Ruby said, “I’m done acting like there’s another way I can help people…”

Ruby took a deep breath and looked off toward the drop. Another tear slipped down her cheek, barely visible now that the rain had finally let up. As she did, Weiss saw another foreign glimmer in her eyes. They looked murderous.

“I’m going to find that man and I’m going to _kill_ him.”

 

Ω

 

She moved before her brain had a chance to wonder why. In the blink of an eye, Weiss brought her left hand out of the mud and swung. She swung hard and she swung true. The open, muddy palm found Ruby’s face and just about knocked the woman over.

“YOU IDIOT!!” Weiss screamed, and realized there was no stopping herself.

Her chest began to heave and her mind started to feel hot. A lot of things were about to come out, and there was diddly anyone could do about it. Least of all herself.

“Why would you throw away what your sister gave you?!” She screamed again, “Why would you drop such a golden opportunity to make something good of yourself?!”

Ruby’s shocked eyes turned slowly back to meet Weiss’s. At the same time, she inched her hand up to the bright red mark on her cheek. She touched it like it were aflame—it may as well have been with how it throbbed. Seeing all this, Weiss took another deep breath to yell some more.

And then it came out as uncontrollable as vomit.

“Why would you leave me…” A whisper, not a yell. Weiss startled herself with that.

Her friend was hurt, more than she knew how to deal with. Her friend was suffering in ways she could not relate to. Her friend was talking what seemed like nonsense. She wanted it to stop, wanted all of it to stop, but couldn’t seem to articulate that. Come to think of it, she could hardly articulate anything.

It was all so new, and this was a very bad time not to know what to do. Or maybe—as Fate oft has it—it was the perfect time to learn.

Weiss’s head was swimming, her heart thumping like it might stop at any moment. It was hot and beating like a drum. She could feel each pulse in her eyes, her ears, her teeth, her fingers—everywhere. But it wasn’t frightening. It was liberating, if anything.

One last time, Weiss looked Ruby in the eye. She felt a bit ashamed for falling apart when her friend needed her most, but that bit of her mind was out for coffee—back in ten. Now it was only the raw feeling, the raw emotion, the raw Weiss Schnee come to the surface and handed the reins. Now it was time for what had been simmering to take over and show its hand.

Weiss leaned toward Ruby, and Ruby did not back away. She was confused but not afraid. She watched as Weiss’s face drew closer and closer, until their noses nearly touched. Then, before either could formulate an idea of what was going on, Weiss closed the last distance.

What can be said of what transpired? Their lips met, their minds met, their hearts met? All of this and more, there on that cliff. All of this and so much more, there under those grey skies.

Neither was averse to it, either. Once it was started, Weiss’s head cleared a little and she regained herself somewhat. Ruby didn’t move, didn’t blink, only took it in. Something clicked in her after a moment, and she too began to push into it. It felt natural and it felt right; like the stars had lined up in single-file and some door had opened up on a grand, new truth. It was that sort of ‘aha’ moment where things finally made sense.

It was Fate, and they both greeted it with open arms.


	10. Thaw

Chapter 9

Thaw

 

Ђ

 

At some point, the rain had stopped. They were cold even still, covered in mud and shivering lightly in each other’s arms. The wind was cold as well. It blew in staggered gusts over the cliff, carrying the scent of sea-breeze and pine and poplar. It danced through the trees like a wisp, whistling and rocking the boughs.

Weiss was aware of all this and more, so alight with life was her every nerve. Each carried a signal louder than gunfire and brighter than newborn stars, dancing up and up through her mind and into her soul. The feel of the breeze, cold and cozily scented; the sound of its stride, whistling like a merry tune; the odd shift of the mud, unpleasant but far away.

Ruby felt these things as well. Her surprise was aloft on ascending wings, climbing for the cosmos with no sign of halting. This mixed with the transcendent awareness in her body, making each detail feel as a vast sea of tactile information. Every sound, every color, every little touch; anything that could be felt was magnified a thousand fold.

For both of them.

But more than this—at the forefront more so than _any_ other detail—was their connection. Clothes and mud stood between them, but even this offered little resistance. Their embrace was ethereal. It was as though a door had opened on a cosmic truth, scattering all else before it like chaff in the wind—mayhap a truth not fully grasped, but a truth nonetheless bright. And where their skin did touch, flesh meeting flesh to speak unspoken truth, it was deific. Short-lived in the end and lost like a ghost once parted, shining like the sun crashing against the very earth at that moment.

_Lavender…_ Weiss thought with amazement and no small fear. _Soft, sweet, warm… Like lavender…_

Ruby sat dazed in the heiress’s grip, vaguely aware that she needed oxygen. Her head was spinning and her lungs were trying desperately to hold out. Yet, this felt so unimportant it was funny. Like an ant considering, at the moment the boot comes down upon it, that it definitely needs to run. Somewhere, anywhere, that isn’t right there.

_Warm…_ Ruby’s mind echoed calmly in her whirling head. _So warm… and safe…_

All said and done, the exchange lasted maybe a minute. A single parley, brought about by trying circumstances, accomplished through some sixty seconds of primal understanding. A conversation between two ailing hearts—and confused minds—spoken by action and intent alone. A reassurance of sorts that said enough was enough.

And then they parted. Two pairs of lips, now red as if bloodied, separated from each other. Two pairs of eyes then regarded each other in the failing light of the cloudy day, asking silently what neither mouth could utter. Two women sat on the cliff—with the wind blowing all around, cold and ominous and incessant—with nary a clue in their hysteric heads of what to say or what to do next.

Another watched this from the tree-line, her gloved hands digging hard into the bark of the pine she stood hidden behind. This one too was floored by the revelation. To her it was simultaneously outrageous and upsetting, not the least reason being she misunderstood the witnessed gesture. Understanding it or not, however, she had most certainly not expected it.

The hidden witness turned and left. Her footsteps, already stealthily taken, were masked by the last round of the salute cracking into the sky. Neither woman saw her and neither heard her depart.

 

ϴ

 

It was really quite an odd thing. No sooner had Winter stepped foot from the woods back into the knoll did the sky open up. The little bit of light escaping through the grey sheet above was cut off and the rain began to pour again, hard and cold. She took a second step and the loudest thunderclap she’d ever heard roared across the sullen clouds. It cracked like a bomb.

For a moment, Winter was back in the field of war. In the mud, the blood, the screaming and the fire. She dipped down, bolted forward and readied to draw her blade. She stopped herself just before reaching the crowd of mourners, momentarily embarrassed but otherwise unfazed. It had been a long day and many unknowns had cropped up. She could allow herself a little mercy, no?

Winter straightened up and entered the crowd. She pushed through easily and politely. People and faunus alike parted as she stepped between them. A White Fang looked at her with an uneasy eye, but neither paid the other any mind aside from this brief glance.

She reached her father, still standing with the Atlesian honor guard, and stood beside him as naturally as if she’d never departed. He cast her an acknowledging glance, but did nothing else. He was busy overseeing the last of the display—ordering the ease of stance and inspecting each soldier.

Not wanting to, but unable to stop herself, Winter cast a forlorn look back to the woods. The crowd was so thick she could only make out the trees. So she looked at those trees, into those trees, and thought. She truly didn’t want to, but she did.

_Weiss…_ She mused with unease, _what are you doing…_

 

Ђ

 

“We need to go back…”

Ruby said the first thing that came to her fevered mind. It was obvious, yes and thank you, that this was so. It really bore no need to mention. The funeral was still going, albeit in the last swing with the guests preparing to leave, and her lack of presence would not look good at the least. Bearing mention or not, though, it was all she could think to say.

She looked into Weiss’s eyes with unhidden disbelief. What had just happened was beyond unexpected; it was so far out of left field, it may as well have been impossible to anticipate. They were friends, she would never dispute this. They had even grown close enough that she found herself cherishing the heiress’s company. But this was something else.

_Warm... Safe…_ Ruby thought, and blushed furiously not a moment after.

Weiss was still busy trying to piece her mind together and did not hear Ruby at first. Her mind was chasing the four winds, her breast swelling deep with every ragged breath. The world—every sight, smell, sound and all—spun like a roulette wheel, nauseating her a tad. In some far off part of her mind, the piece that was presently filing away the recent revelation, she knew what she’d done. This didn’t mean she accepted it, however.

_Lavender…_ Weiss echoed the memory.

“Come on.” Ruby said, and she stood.

Weiss looked up at her with eyes that said her thoughts were out for tea. Ruby brushed this aside, bent down and grabbed her hand. With a squeaky grunt, she pulled the heiress to shaking legs.

“Ruby…” Weiss said, sounding like the echo in her head.

“Come on.” Ruby said again, and began to lead her friend back into the woods.

They took one step in and the sky opened up. The last bit of light puffed out like a candle. Rain began to tear through the canopy above and the clouds roared like an angry god. Thunder clapped loud, vicious and violent. It thudded in their chests, causing Ruby to shriek in surprise and Weiss to come back to awareness. Ruby let go and crouched, clapping her hands to her ears and squinting her eyes shut in mixed fear and pain.

Weiss blinked twice as she regained herself, only vaguely aware of the echoing thunder and Ruby’s scream. She looked down, saw her friend crouching like a frightened child and set upon her. One arm wrapped around Ruby’s shoulder and the other around her stomach.

“You’re ok.” Weiss whispered into Ruby’s ear, “I got you…”

Slow and cautious, Ruby opened her eyes. The forest was dark as pitch and rain enveloped them. The cold was seeping into her from all directions save the back, bringing shivers in waves. Her teeth chattered and her heart raced, but somehow she felt only a little fear. Dark, cold, muddy, morose…

_Warm…_ Ran through her head again, and Ruby clutched the hand perched on her shoulder.

“Let’s get back.” Ruby said.

“Let’s.” Weiss agreed.

They stood. Weiss’s hand fell from Ruby’s shoulder and she started to walk ahead. Before she could take a second step, Ruby’s hand shot out and took hold of hers. The grip was shaky and cold from the rain, but it was also firm and sure. Weiss looked back. It was hard in the nigh-total absence of light, but she could barely make out Ruby’s face.

Was that a smile?

 

ϴ

 

Their trek through the woods felt like forever. In truth, it took less time to leave than it had to get to the cliff. This was mostly due to Weiss having lost her heels in all the commotion, making every fumbling step in the dark all the more unnerving.

When they reached the knoll and left the woods, a fair portion of the mourners had already departed. The few that remained would not for long, with the torrential rain returned vengeful. They were huddled under umbrellas and slowly filing to offer their last condolences to Taiyang.

The rain washed most of the mud from the women by the time they reached what was left of the crowd. Weiss pushed into them first, pulling Ruby behind her as she made her way through. They reached her father just in time for Winter to turn around. Weiss only made it two steps further before realizing, with a reeling dismay, that she still held Ruby’s hand. Winter saw this and leveled a scowl on her sister.

Weiss paused for a moment. The entire day ran through her mind in an instant—every last detail, from waking up at her friend’s house to the clifftop parley—and she found something alarming. She did not think on it overmuch, however. Only another moment and, with a wan smile, she let go of Ruby’s hand.

“Where have you been, Weiss?” Her father said. He had turned only just in time to miss the sight of his daughter holding hands with the sister of the deceased. Maybe it wouldn’t have bothered him—he hadn’t seen what Winter had, after all—but Weiss breathed a sigh of relief all the same.

“I was… preoccupied, Father.” Weiss said.

Her father looked them over—Weiss first, then the shaking Ruby—and sighed. He turned to the honor guard and gave a salute. The soldiers saluted him back and departed. They marched off to an Atlesian transport, grounded over the knoll, in perfect lockstep. The man turned back to Weiss.

“I assume your business here is done?” He said. The one raised eyebrow on his stony face told Weiss he already knew the answer he expected to hear.

“I’ll be returning to the University posthaste, Father.” Weiss said.

“Good. Let us join the transport then. It’s a military craft, but the accommodations are satisfactory.”

Then it happened.

Weiss looked to Ruby, who stood behind her with both hands unconsciously clasped over her heart. She shook from either the rain or her own wild emotions. Whichever it was, Weiss knew what she had to say. Or, more truthfully, what she _wanted_ to say in reply. Her head still spun enough to notice and her breathing was not yet fully under control. The heiress was still well aware of what had just happened, and she was beginning to believe she understood a great many things at last.

“I’m coming back with Ruby.” Weiss said, still looking at her friend. A weak smile played across her lips when she saw Ruby’s face brighten up at this.

“Oh?” Her father said, “And why is that?”

“Because.” Weiss replied.

There passed a few moments of silence. The last of the mourners were on their way out and the rain was gradually getting worse. In the wicked wind, it had even turned sideways by this point. The last of the dirt was tossed onto the grave and Mister Axter hobbled by the quartet, not even casting them a single glance. He could feel what was transpiring and only shook his head with sagely foreknowing. At last, Weiss looked back to her father.

“It was good seeing you, Father.” She said, giving a shallow curtsy, “We’ll be back within the next two days.”

And with that, she turned to leave. Weiss took Ruby by the hand—the same hand, now much warmer—and they walked off. Her father made as if he wanted to say something as they left, and he had much to say in all truth, but held his tongue with a scornful look. Winter’s scowl grew all the darker, but Weiss saw none of this. She walked on, barefoot and determined, with Ruby close behind.

“Do you know anything about this?” The man said to Winter.

She turned to him, face still painted with her awful scowl. For a moment she considered telling. In the end…

“No.” Winter said, “I’m really not sure what’s gotten into her.”

It wasn’t fully a lie, either. But it was enough for her father to pick up on.

“Keep an eye on her, Winter.” He said, then turned and left without so much as a wave goodbye.

Winter looked to the direction her sister had gone. Her heart stirred with conflicting emotions and thoughts. Even the rain could not cool the fury reddening her skin. Yet, in some long-repressed part of her mind, the same feeling that held her tongue panged for her baby sister. She had no idea what to do with this.

Under the rain, the wind and the blackening day, Winter found herself lost for how to proceed.

 

Ђ

 

The rain, the rain, the rain. Oh, how sick of its constant patter she was. Incessant and grating on her every nerve.

Weiss sat in the Patch hotel room, watching the window. The occasional boom of thunder—no lightning flash in sight—was all that broke the monotony of the storm. Streams of water slid down the glass surface with unbroken constancy. Beyond that was the grey, shiftless mass of fog conjured by the endless rainstorm, hiding only darkness where the streetlamps did not light it. It looked to her as if the storm were on its way to becoming a tempest by this point.

In the room, she could hear the shower vaguely. Ruby was still busy within, washing off the grime the rain hadn’t reached. Steam crept from under the bathroom door, making wispy streaks that climbed to the ceiling and disappeared. She looked from the window and observed these watery ghosts, praying for an end to the tempest in her head and in her heart.

So many things to think about. So much to ponder upon that had come to pass. So very much illogical mess to reconcile with her logical self. Why? Why, why, and why some more.

The shower cut off and Weiss jumped a little. She could hear more clearly now without its constant drone backing up the clatter of the rain. In the quieter atmosphere, she realized there was a thudding somewhere in the room. A low, constant beat; rhythmic and calm in its cadence. She looked around—from bathroom door, to both beds, to the window again, to the television and back to the door—but could not find a source. Every time she turned her head, thinking the sound would weaken in one ear or the other and give its position away, it continued.

A few minutes passed and, just as Ruby opened the door to exit, Weiss recognized it was her heart.

“Shower’s all yours.” Ruby said, clothed in remarkably girlish pajamas and patting her hair dry.

Weiss stood and gathered up the nightclothes and towel she had laid out. She crossed the room, briefly noting the red flush of Ruby’s face, and entered the bathroom. She shut the door, turned on the water and stripped down before stepping in.

The water was hot, but it felt almost cold on her flushed skin. The heiress found herself amazed at how furiously she was blushing all over. Even the loud rush of the shower was almost deafened by the throbbing in her ears. She sighed and went about cleaning.

Ruby hopped onto her bed and rolled to the other side. She snatched the remote and a book off the nightstand before rolling back to the center. Book in one hand, she flipped the tele on and snuggled under her blanket.

Though the lighting was low, she had little trouble making out the print. Always had good eyes, as her father and sister never hesitated to point out. Easily distracted, but still good. Yet, as she began to crawl her gaze over the lines of words, Ruby found nothing stuck. She read, reread, and reread some more. Ten times she tried to consume the first line, but nothing settled.

With a heavy sigh, Ruby shut the book and plopped it onto her stomach. She looked instead to the tele, tuned to the news again, and hoped _it_ would help her mind drift.

The scene on the cliff kept playing through her. What she had said; what Weiss had said. What she had done; what Weiss had done. The way it all went hazy and bright and warm. The way time seemed to have frozen…

_Safe…_

The word flashed in her mind’s eye and Ruby blushed furiously. Hot, sudden and rampant, it crawled from her collar to the top of her forehead in an instant. She snatched up the remote again and flipped through the channels, settling eventually on what looked like a crime drama. But the blush did not leave; if anything, it only grew stronger.

Her mind was locked to that one bit. When Weiss’s hand had found her face, almost knocking her over, and she’d whispered it. So soft, so quiet, so earnest…

_Why would you leave me…_

And the blush grew. A consuming fire, a living heat.

Ruby focused on the show, trying to fill her head with every detail coming from the flashing box. Every uttered word from the actors, every sound from the background. Nothing, and what’s worse is there was now the sound of a drum. Somewhere, something thudded and thudded and thudded some more. After a few moments, Ruby began to struggle to hear _anything_ else. It was so loud, so harsh, it drowned all the other sounds from the room.

She turned the tele off, fell onto her pillow and turned over. She closed her eyes, hoping maybe to get some sleep and escape that awful drumming, when it hit her.

Not drums, but her heart echoing loud in her ears.

The bathroom door opened and out stepped Weiss, patting her hair dry as she walked to her bed. Ruby wouldn’t turn over, not like this—not with her face afire and her ears deaf with the beat of her racing heart.

Again, the world swam. It twirled like a ballerina at the apex of her performance, setting Ruby into a momentary nausea. The drumming grew louder. Her face grew hotter still. Somewhere in her mind, Ruby wondered how she wasn’t sweating. That thought and all others were quickly silenced, however, when a warm feeling gripped her shoulder.

Warm, that is, in spite of her fever-level blush.

“Are you ok, Ruby?” It was _her_ voice. Soft… and caring?

She’d heard Weiss pick up that tone a few times before, but it still came as a slight shock. At most it was usually a begrudging sort of concern, masked with explanation or justification—by tone if not by words—but not this time. This time it was naked as any great truth, unsilenceable and immutable.

“Yeah.” Ruby said, “I— I’m alright…”

The hand squeezed a little tighter and Ruby felt every bit of its warmth. It tugged and, against every want to do otherwise, she rolled over.

The light in the bathroom was still on. Steam still drifted out in ghostly streams. Weiss stood kneeling on one knee, her head silhouetted by the bathroom light like an archangel. Her eyes held no trace of their characteristic cold, aloof detachment; they held only an obvious concern. Looking at them, Ruby could feel a lump welling up in her throat. She sat up to keep from choking.

“Really, Weiss, I’m fine.” Ruby said, offering a weak smile.

Weiss looked at her plainly, smiling a bit in return. She let her grip relax and pulled her hand away. But before it could move more than a few inches, Ruby reached out and took hold.

“About what happened, out there on the cliff…” Weiss started, but was quickly hushed.

Ruby squeezed her hand. Tight and sharp, and just a bit painful, but not violent.

“Don’t.” She said, “Please…”

Were those tears? In the yellowish glow of the weak lighting, they could easily have been mistaken for streams of melted gold. A shiver ran through Weiss’s spine.

“I was out of line.” Weiss said, looking away and to the floor, “I should’ve been thinking of you, not my own feelings.”

“You weren’t?” Ruby said.

Weiss brought her gaze back and was a little alarmed. At a glance, she couldn’t tell what she was seeing. Happiness? No not quite, but the smile made it an easy mistake. Pity? No, no, that wouldn’t be like Ruby at all. She looked—practically stared into those silver eyes, now hued gold—but couldn’t decide what she was seeing.

“Tell me what you _were_ thinking of, then…” Ruby whispered.

She took the heiress’s hand and placed it on her lap, crossing her other over top of it. Ruby smiled wider, tears still streaming down her blushing cheeks, and gazed into her friend’s startled eyes.

“I was worried.” Weiss said.

Ruby only continued to stare, and after a moment of this awkward silence Weiss went on.

“I was worried you would do something…”

What? What _was_ she worried would’ve happened? Not so long ago—not even a year—Weiss couldn’t have cared less for those around her. There were plans to make, goals to meet, schemes to see to fruition. What were the daily troubles of her lessers? Nothing more than mere annoyances to be ignored is what.

But then _her_. The woman on the bed she now worried so keenly over. The woman who had taken a burden from her; who had liberated her without either of them fully realizing it. She had seen something like this befall someone before—losing a loved one, being left hurting in the dark—back before her heart had iced over. And then…

“Brash.” Weiss said, finishing up and pushing the unsavory memory from her mind.

“See?” Ruby said, squeezing the hand in hers a little tighter, “That’s not thinking about yourself, Weiss. So don’t apologize.”

Weiss looked away again. She hadn’t started this conversation to justify herself. Somehow, she knew Ruby was aware of this as well. There was more to be said; a truth that needed speaking, even if already spoken through action. Weiss took a deep breath, looked back to those tear-streaked eyes and decided.

It was time to be frank.

“I really do care about you, you know?” Weiss half stated, half asked, “I was out of line, not for worrying but for how I went about it all.”

Ruby’s grip got tighter still, and now it began to hurt just a little. Weiss ignored it and went on.

“You’ve done a lot for me, Ruby. More than I’m sure I could explain. Watching you go through all of this has… hurt. A _lot_. And feeling powerless to help you has hurt even more…”

“But you have helped me!” Ruby interrupted, her voice stressed and more than a little loud.

“Maybe.” Weiss said, “But I haven’t been doing it right…”

Weiss stopped, trying to feel for the words. The knowledge was there, and the emotion as well. Even her understanding had waxed to a certain zenith. Yet her words failed her. It was coming out wrong, somehow.

“Ruby, I—” Weiss tried again, stuttering.

Suddenly, she was pulled with unexpected force. If not for the surprise, Weiss might’ve pondered exactly how strong her friend could possibly be. Such a small, lithe frame couldn’t hide enough muscle to jerk a grown woman with such force, could it? But that was neither here nor there. All Weiss realized was that she had been yanked from her kneeling position toward the woman, with blinding speed one might add.

And then she was wrapped in warmth. It almost felt hot enough to rival the flush of her own skin.

“We can talk about _that_ another time.” Ruby said, hugging Weiss with uncanny firmness, “For now… _thank you_.”

The dampness of Ruby’s tears clung to Weiss’s neck immediately, feeling cold and out of place. The heat of her face, however, quickly settled in and kicked that sensation aside. Both were taken back to the cliff and the moment not so far past. Wrapped up in it again as that door to a cosmic truth peeked open a little further.

“Thank you for being such a good friend.” Ruby whispered.

 

Ͼ

 

The morning came. A night of fitful, restless sleep passed them by, leading into a morning both queer and unexpected. The sun was bright, the sky cloudless, birds sang and not so much as a drop of water was to be found even in the shaded places. It was warm, too, like no great storm had passed over the land.

Weiss woke first and roused her friend shortly thereafter. Their morning was spent mostly in silence, packing their things and straightening up the hotel room. To her slight amazement, Weiss found Ruby to be just as conscientious of leaving the place in a reputable state. Admiration filled her chest briefly at this discovery.

With all that done, the two headed down to the lobby for breakfast. A simple meal of bagels and sausage, chased with blessedly cold milk. Both still felt the flush of the previous day upon them, unsurprisingly. After this was finished, they checked out and left the hotel. They were outside and Weiss was in the middle of hailing a cab when Ruby spoke up.

“Hold off on that cab.” She said as if in a hurry.

“Did you forget something?” Weiss asked.

“Yeah. I’m gonna go say goodbye to Dad before we go.” Ruby said, looking a little bashful, “Do you mind waiting an hour or two longer?”

Weiss thought about it for a moment, briefly admiring the beauty of the day. She spotted a cab coming down the street and held her arm up again, looking back to Ruby.

“A taxi will get you there quicker.”

“But I don’t have any money, remember?” Ruby said.

“It’s on me.” Weiss said with a sly smile, “Make sure you thank him for me while you’re there, ok? That was a really good meal.”

Ruby looked a little shocked, but went along. By no means was she coming to expect the heiress’s charity, but it was becoming less and less surprising. She was no less grateful, all the same.

The cab came and Ruby hopped in. Weiss fiddled with a few of her pockets before finding her spare cash, handing the cabby a neat—albeit thin—roll of Lien. The man counted it out, then looked at her with unhidden awe.

“I don’t got change for this, Miss.” He said.

“You’re going to idle and wait for her.” Weiss said, watching to see that he followed, “Then you’re bringing her back here and taking us to the airship landing. Got that?”

Ruby found herself admiring the powerful tone in Weiss’s voice while the cabby counted out the Lien again. And again, he looked at the heiress with stunned eyes.

“I don’t got change for that either, Miss…” He apologized more than said.

“Consider it a tip, then.” Weiss said, then looked to Ruby in the back, “Be safe, ok?”

“You sure you don’t wanna come too?” Ruby asked.

“Yeah.” Weiss said with a nod and a smile, “You need some family time before we go back to the University. Best you get that on your own.”

Ruby grinned and Weiss stood back from the car. As the cab pulled away, she waved and watched them go with a slight pang. Now she had time to kill, and without the friend she’d become so close to—attached, one might even say.

Weiss looked around, both admiring and mistrusting the gorgeous day. So bright and alive. By no means could one tell that storms had plagued the area for a straight week. Even the ground looked nowhere near as soggy as it should. If anything, it looked only a step above parched. The heat, too, felt so far out of place it was unsettling. A little too hot for Spring, Weiss would’ve said if asked, especially this early on.

She put these thoughts from her head and began to actually look for somewhere to spend her next couple hours. She spied the café, where Blake had summoned them and given Ruby the cloak. A brief moment’s consideration was enough to decide against it. Next she spotted a small clothing store, and considered having a look at what was in season in these parts. That idea, too, fell short of her liking. Weiss was about to give it up and choose to walk around when something interesting caught her eye.

It looked ordinary from the sidewalk, but it had a sign most intriguing hanging over the tired brick arch of its entrance. **_Patch’s Pocket Editions_** _,_ it read in gigantic, bold lettering. Not much else of note stood out to her on the building’s exterior, but the name was enough to draw her interest. Another moment of contemplating and Weiss decided _this_ would do well enough to spend her time. She reentered the hotel, asked the concierge to look after her luggage and left for the intriguing little store. She walked down the street to the crosswalk, looked both ways, and crossed to the other side. Standing before the entry, a feeling of both calm and slight terror washed through her.

“A bookstore, huh?” Weiss mused before pulling open the door and stepping in.

She walked into what looked, at first glance, like some kind of dive bar—poorly lit, unmistakably musty, dusty and claustrophobic. Once her eyes adjusted to the lighting, however, a neighborly sense of warmth settled in with the other sensations. Books lined shelves which in turn formed a packed maze of aisles. It was like an entire supermarket for the mind crammed into a small coffee shop.

The presence of knowledge settled upon her and Weiss took a deep breath, closing her eyes and _tasting_ the ink and yellowed paper that hung on the air. _Paradise_ , her mind whispered as the scent bled into her. She opened her eyes and looked around.

To her right—in what formed a nook full of chairs and small, round tables—there was a reading area for the customers. A sign hanging almost directly above and in front of her proudly read, **_Welcome to browse and read; no purchase necessary!_** The lettering was bright red on a chalkboard-black backdrop.

“Welcome, Miss!” called a portly man from behind a small counter to the left of the reading nook.

Weiss looked his way. He wore the kind of smile you can only find in the back places, where the world hasn’t fully reached out with civilization and mass society. His stubbly beard reached from his rosy cheeks to halfway down his neck. On his head sat a worn black beret, tilted down and to the side like an artist might prefer.

“Anything in particular you’re after?” He called again.

A smile twitched at the corner of her lips as she walked over to the counter. The polished slate surface twinkled in the dim lighting, winking at her like lightning bugs as she approached.

“Only people that really love learning wanna take a deep breath like that in a place like this.” He said, punctuating his remark with another smile.

“Glad I decided to stop by.” Weiss agreed, casting a look back to the maze of shelves. There were so many books in such a small place, it looked to her like a tiny little library. Seeing this and thinking that, she was reminded that a battery of tests awaited her and Ruby upon their return. No rest for the weary…

“So, what can I help you find?” The man asked jovially.

“I’m sure I can spot something interesting.” Weiss said.

The man chuckled and Weiss looked back to him, her elite blood heating a little at the assumed condescendence. The man swung his right arm out toward the maze of bookshelves.

“I’m Oliver, and this is my little literary heaven.” He said, smiling wider, “You’re welcome to browse, but you’re likely to get lost in there without an idea of what you’re after. So I’ll ask again, Miss: Can I help you find anything?”

Weiss’s blood calmed and she gave Oliver a little giggle. When it hit her just how unlike herself this was, a light blush crept across her nose and cheeks. She cleared her throat and thought, trying to imagine just what would be palatable to her mind this day.

“How about ‘The Wealth of the Kingdoms’?” Weiss said, her eyes glazing over with deep consideration.

“A real scholar, huh?” Oliver said.

“The Schnee MTU doesn’t tolerate academic slackers, Mister Oliver.” Weiss said, flashing a haughty grin, “And I’m feeling a little rusty on my historical economics. I’d be interested in two copies, if you have them.”

Oliver straightened up, took off his beret and scratched his head. His jovial face took on the look of a man planning the heist of the century. Weiss watched this with moderate interest, thinking surely there was no way he could be looking for it in his memory. Even she had her limits for such a thing. No, there had to be a catalogue of some sort nearby and he was just putting on a show.

Right?

“Alright.” Oliver said suddenly, snapping Weiss to attention, “Follow me, Miss Scholar.”

And with that he was off. The portly man moved like liquid, squeezing out from behind the small counter and flowing into the maze of aisles. Weiss followed him quickly, not wanting to lose him, and found herself hard-pressed to keep up. What was with all these odd people she seemed to keep encountering? Thinking on that, she started to wonder if her prestigious intellect was really such an impressive commodity.

Oliver led her into the maze and Weiss followed like Alice chasing the Rabbit.

 

α

 

The cabby took the short route after Ruby told him the address. The ride was smooth and the driver pleasant, even talkative when she would venture to chat. He shared a few stories of his own family—mentioning he really needed to thank that the weird woman with the icy eyes for such a considerate tip, to which Ruby assured him there was no need—and Ruby reciprocated with some of her own. Never a stranger in the world to her.

The road was just as dry as could be, the trees a verdant green complete with singing birds of all colors in their boughs. Patch was full in the grip of Spring an entire month early, it seemed. Ruby noticed there was no trace of the week’s storms. Even she caught onto how drastically the weather had turned around, and seemingly overnight no less.

When the cab finally pulled into the driveway, Ruby hopped out with a wave and a thank you. Just as Weiss had instructed, the man shifted the car into neutral and reclined his seat, clearly readying himself for a wait while his fare did whatever she’d come to do. Ruby saw this, smiled briefly and turned to go.

She walked up the long driveway and reached the door before knocking twice. Her dad’s footsteps echoed loud on the wooden floorboards, telecasting his approach like an alarum. A moment later, the door opened and Taiyang’s face—quickly covered with a wide grin—greeted Ruby.

“Rubes!” Taiyang said, “You still here?”

Ruby smiled back and went in for a hug.

“Come to say bye to your old man, eh?” Taiyang said, squeezing his daughter proudly.

“Yeah. Got a minute?”

Taiyang pulled away and, with his hands on Ruby’s tiny shoulders, gave another wide grin.

“Of course.” He said warmly, “Come on in, kiddo.”

They walked into the house and Ruby dragged the door shut behind her. Taiyang stepped into the kitchen while Ruby sauntered over to the couch, plopped down and sighed. She was feeling pretty good, all things considered, but a pall still hung about her head. It was much weaker now, but still there enough to notice.

“Black tea ok?!” Taiyang called from the kitchen.

“Yeah!” Ruby called back.

She listened to the sound of her father rummaging around—pots and pans clanging, cups clattering, water running and splashing—and sank into the nostalgia. She’d only been gone for some eight months, but with all that had happened it felt like eight _years_.

Before she could drift too far into her thoughts, the clamor in the kitchen stopped. Ruby looked over and saw her dad come out, looking a little redder and a little flustered. He crossed the room quickly and hopped over the couch, landing just beside Ruby like some kind of acrobat wannabe. Ruby giggled.

“No rest for the academic, eh Rubes?” Taiyang said with a wink, sinking into the couch and getting comfortable.

“Guess not.” Ruby agreed, “After this I’ll be going back there and diving right into all of it again. Kinda hard to imagine, really.”

“Nah.”

Ruby looked at her dad and snorted a short, squeaky laugh.

“Oh?” She said cheerfully, “And how do you figure that?”

Taiyang looked away, turning his gaze toward the cold hearth. A look of sorrow washed over his face—a startling contrast to his cheery mood—and faded the next moment. Ruby only barely caught it.

“You girls were never ones to give up easily.” Taiyang said with mixed pride and melancholy, turning back to look Ruby in the eye, “You’re gonna get back there and you’re gonna kick some academic ass! I know you will.”

From there, the two shared some amiable, albeit less than lively, conversation. When the water came to a boil in the kitchen, sounding off with its high whistle, Taiyang leapt up and poured the tea. He brought it back in steaming mugs. A pair that was once a quartet, now missing two of its partners instead of only one.

Ruby took the mug, trying not to think of her sister’s matching piece that now sat with her mom’s. When it cooled, she drank. The conversation went on. More reminiscing, more encouraging, and not a little bit of condolence shared between the two of them. Some tears, too, but certainly less than would have been expected.

And when it was all done—the mug empty and all the words to be said spoken—Ruby glanced at her watch. Only an hour had gone by.

“Hey Dad…” Ruby muttered, staring at the watch’s Cheshire grin, “What was being a hunter like?”

Taiyang nearly choked on the tea he’d tried to finish in one go. Only a quarter of the cup, but more than enough to hurt in the lungs. He coughed, knocked his chest a few times and looked at Ruby.

“Why do ya ask, Rubes?” He said, a little worried.

Ruby looked up and opened her mouth like she would say something. After a moment, she closed it; if there was something to be said, she’d decided against it.

“Forget I asked.” She said instead, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture.

Ruby stood up and stretched. The couch was comfy—the many days she’d spent on it in her youth, playing games and reading books with Yang, were a testament to this—but it did have a habit of leaving one stiff after sitting on it for long enough. She sighed and looked at the hearth. The mantel above held a few plates flanking a single wide picture frame. Looking at the smiling faces in the frame, Ruby grimaced weakly in return.

“Thanks for the tea, Dad.” She said, staring at the picture, “I’ll make sure to come back for some more when the next break comes.”

Taiyang watched his daughter—his only remaining little girl—and stood as she approached the front door. He followed after and, just before she could pull it open, took hold of her shoulders. He spun her around and pulled her into another hug.

“We’re all proud of you, Rubes.” Taiyang said with unusual gravity, “ _All_ _of us._ ”

After a moment, Ruby returned the hug. Taiyang could feel a soggy warmth begin to spread where her face was buried against his chest.

 

Λ

 

Sure enough, Oliver knew exactly where it was. Two copies of The Wealth of the Kingdoms, sitting tight and tidy in their own little pocket of forgotten shelf-space. A little dusty too, but after picking one up and discovering it was a first edition—and checking the other only to see the same—Weiss was floored. Vale had restricted access to this book, for heavens knew why, to only those that were deemed to need it; Atlas, on the other hand, had completely banned all but the edited rerelease. Courtesy of the Schnees, no doubt.

For the first time in her entire life, that thought crossed Weiss’s mind.

“So, does that look good to you?” Oliver asked with a curiously raised eyebrow. Against the brim of his beret, it looked like the eyebrow had disappeared and left him with only one.

“Yes.” Weiss said, pausing for a breath if only to take it in, “Yes, Mister—”

“Just Oliver, if you please.” He interrupted.

“Oliver, then.” Weiss said with a sigh, “These will do just fine.”

She took both books—and by _Dust_ were they heavy—and followed the portly fellow back through the maze of shelves. Again she was struck with faint awe by his eerie agility. He flowed more than walked as they made their way back to the counter. There he rang her up, and Weiss was struck by another oddity. The price was ridiculously low; the sort of low that says your store is a hobby, not a business for generating a living.

“Care for some coffee while you read those?” Oliver offered after accepting her Lien.

Weiss took her massive first editions, tucked them into a complimentary bag and considered the offer. A glance at the clock on the counter told her she’d only managed to spend about twenty minutes thus far. What harm could it do? A nice brew if he had it and a relaxing read…

“Do you have Atlesian?” She asked, with no small hint of hope.

“Of course!” Oliver almost shouted, “A scholar _and_ a connoisseur! Where do they keep the customers like you buried?!”

Oliver’s stubbly cheeks lit up red as he said this. Weiss ignored him and turned to the little reading nook, searching for a good spot while the oddly jovial man set to preparing the offered brew. She found a good one—a seat by the window with a hanging lamp overhead—and seated herself. It hit her, if only for a moment, that Ruby was rubbing off on her.

Not such a bad thing, maybe?

She sat down and pulled one of the books from the bag. A moment’s observation and appreciation was given for the exquisite cover art. That done, Weiss opened and began to read.

Icy eyes crawled over every word with scrutinizing detail, consuming and digesting every bit of information on offer. During her travels for her first college degree, she’d come across the book once. A miserably chopped up, edited version to be sure, but a copy nonetheless. That time just as now, she had devoured it ravenously as though her mind were a starving peasant, famished for the tiniest scraps from the master’s table.

“Not many people appreciate the classics these days.” Someone said.

Weiss glanced up, expecting to see Oliver with her cup of Atlesian. She did not. What she saw instead was a man—another customer, no doubt—that looked very much at home in the seat across the tiny table from her.

“Classics are the foundation for anything new.” Weiss said, looking back to her newest treasure and turning the page.

“To be sure.” The man said, “But even still, it seems like most would rather ignore that…”

Weiss ignored him and kept reading. Maybe she could squeeze in fifty or sixty pages before Ruby got back. She thought so and decided this newcomer wasn’t going to distract her. Another five pages and a familiar smell caught her nose, peeling her attention away in time to see Oliver.

“Your coffee, Miss.” He said, setting a little cup and saucer by her right hand, “And thank you very much for your patronage!”

Weiss gave him a friendly grin as he left, toddling off for his post behind the counter. She turned back to her book, set it on the table and picked up her cup. Scalding hot or not, her palate was crying for the hickory-tinted bliss.

“Isn’t it disgusting when people _pretend_ they know what’s what?” The man across from her said.

The sip of Atlesian turned sour in her mouth. Weiss wasn’t sure if it was his comment or her rising ire for him. Whatever it was, it had pushed a wrong button. She swallowed the sour coffee, placed the cup back on the saucer just a little harder than she should’ve and eyed the man.

It was the first good look she’d taken. He sat reclined in his chair, a wide-brimmed hat pulled low and obscuring most of his features. She could make out the lower half of his face, though. He had a meticulously shaped goatee and a very strong jawline. One might even venture to call it handsome. Beyond this, nothing else he wore was of any note; just fairly average clothes, black layered on black.

The man looked up and, for a brief moment, Weiss’s heart skipped when he smiled. He was quite handsome, indeed, with his dark green eyes and powerful stare. A curled tuft of dark hair, most likely black, poked out from under his hat. His olive-toned skin sported a small patch of freckles on the bridge of his nose.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Weiss said, trying to look back to her book and failing. She simply couldn’t peel her eyes away from the handsome stranger. His smile wasn’t helping, either. Warm, welcoming and full of celebrity-white teeth.

“But of course you do!” He said, sitting up straight and staring keenly at the heiress, “A Schnee would surely know that better than most—better than _anyone_ , like as not. Especially you…”

His smile widened and seemed to curl, almost looking cruel.

“Right, Weiss?”

Every hair on her body—the nape of her neck, her arms, her legs, even her nethers—stood on end when he sighed her name. Weiss slammed the book shut and clasped her hands together, situating them under her chin and leaning on them. She tried to give off what she hoped was an intimidating aura. By the stranger’s continued smile, she failed.

“How rude of me.” The man said, “Here I am, stepping on my soapbox when I haven’t even offered my name—and even though I know yours, no less. I really can be such a boor, no?”

“I can think of a few other things I would title you under at the moment...” Weiss said with no attempt to hide her venom. And yet, venom or not, she could feel herself shaking a little.

“My name is Levi, and I’m a wandering scholar—much like yourself, by the look of that book.” He said, “There, now. Aren’t we friends, Weiss?”

Her skin crawled that time, and once more every last hair was at attention. Any effect Levi’s handsome features had had was gone; it was replaced with a primal sort of revulsion. Something Weiss hadn’t known since meeting the second man her father had tried to set her up with, hardly two months after her sixteenth birthday.

“Well then, Levi…” Weiss said, stopping to stifle a gag as his name left her lips, “Why are you bothering me? In case you can’t see past that giant nose you insist on sticking into other people’s business, I have a book and some coffee I’m trying to enjoy. I have a little time to kill right now and I’d much rather spend it talking to this book’s author than you. So, if you have a point then would you mind making it?”

Levi’s smile twisted into more of a snarl. His bared teeth looked jagged and animalistic for a moment, but one single blink had them back to normal. Did she hallucinate that?

“Forgive me.” He said, giving a short chuckle, “I’m really not that good with talking to people. I spend more time with books than humans—and talking with the author through his prose, as you so eloquently put it, is _not_ the same as talking to a person.”

He sat up and made a show of stretching, like he’d been hard at work in a field all day.

“Mind if we start over?” Levi asked with another charming smile.

“Will you leave me alone after that?” Weiss asked in return, trying to ignore the mixed signals of revulsion and attraction her body was giving her. It was a losing battle.

“Of course!” Levi said, amiable enough, “Thought I’d say hi. Saw you at the funeral—and my, wasn’t that a nasty affair—and you looked pretty chummy with the deceased’s family. That woman with the silver eyes, specifically…”

Weiss watched every flamboyant move the man made as he talked. Most of this came from his hands, with which he waved and gestured incessantly. A good bit came from his body as well. He twisted and turned, writhed and jived, with almost every word he uttered. To her, he looked like an asylum release rather than a scholar of any sort.

“So tell me, Weiss.” Levi sighed, placing a hand on his right cheek, “Exactly how close are you to her?”

Weiss sat up straight and crossed her arms. She was growing very tired of this man very fast. And yet, she found herself hard-pressed to leave. It was like her legs wouldn’t listen to her.

“I really don’t see how that’s any of your concern, _Levi_.” She all but spat his name.

Levi smiled, wide and cruel, and barked a quick laugh—a devilish laugh.

“It isn’t.” He said flatly, “But it is yours, no?”

Weiss felt a cold sweat come up at that. Suddenly, her sister’s disappointed stare and her father’s inquisitive posture came back to her. The scene between them at the funeral’s end played again. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates, staring nervously into the deep green of Levi’s.

“Just thought I’d warn you, is all.” Levi said, baring every last tooth with the widest, cruelest smile he’d shown yet, “Best to keep your… _indiscretions_ in mind when you go back.”

And now Weiss very much wanted to leave. She wanted to slap the man first—a good, hard one with the back of her hand—but found herself more than a little afraid of doing that. The primal glare in his eyes said she might not get that hand back. What he’d said, too, was upsetting. Had he seen something? If so, how much? Was this the start of some blackmailing attempt?

“Nothing so shady, Weiss.” Levi said, and for a moment Weiss thought it was her own inner thoughts.

“Wha—?” Was all she could bumble in reply.

“You see—like I said— _I_ find it very disgusting when people pretend they know what’s what. When people act like their ideas are the only truth in this world. It’s too big a place for that, isn’t it? Too much going on and too much undiscovered. How can anyone _know_ what is and isn’t the truth?”

He reached across the table and took hold of Weiss’s cup. With utter calm and ease, he sat up and lifted it to his mouth, consuming every last drop of the steaming inkiness. Then, with a flamboyant sigh, he placed it back on the saucer.

“Atlesian…” Levi said, licking his lips, “Sure hits the spot.”

She was about to leave—about to force her legs, like it or not, to stand and bolt out the door—when Levi moved first. He stood, pushed in his chair and gave a deep bow. Right foot extended, heel planted with toes pointed up; right hand on his chest and left hand swung out to the side. The eerily handsome man looked like something right out of an old fairytale; he looked like the knight bowing respectfully before whisking the princess away.

“I hope you’ll find _your_ truth, Weiss Schnee.” He said after standing up straight, “It’s all we can hope for in this life, is it not?”

Before she could answer, he turned and left. His garish cowboy boots clacked louder than they should’ve with every step he took to the door. Once he’d gone, the room felt different. Better lit and more alive, somehow.

Weiss released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Care for another cup?”

Weiss turned slowly, almost fearfully, to see Oliver standing beside her. In his hand was the pot of coffee, steaming angrily from the little pour spout. He was smiling, just as before.

She looked to her cup and saw the man’s lips on it. The image of Levi drinking her coffee—from her cup, _without_ her permission—stained the thought of wanting more. For a moment, Weiss wondered if she’d ever want Atlesian blend again.

“Thank you, but I’ll pass.” She said, pushing the upsetting image away.

“That’s a shame.” Oliver said, “Not many people enjoy this stuff out here. I’d hate to let this pot go to waste…”

“Do you know that… _odd_ man that was just sitting here with me?” Weiss asked, ignoring Oliver’s dejected tone.

“What man?”

Weiss looked up at him. Oliver’s face clearly said he wasn’t pulling her leg or otherwise feigning idiocy. Had he not looked over her way the entire time?

“The man who just left.” Weiss said, her cold sweat returning with a vengeance, “The one with the rancher’s hat. I know it’s a little dim in here, but surely you saw him?”

Oliver straightened up and looked at Weiss with a funny tilt of his round head. His eyes crawled across her, like he was trying to see if she was joking with him. He sighed.

“Miss… It’s just been you, sitting there reading your book. I saw you finish your coffee and thought I’d offer you some more.”

A moment of silence passed. Weiss stared with unhidden mistrust at the portly shopkeep, feeling her heart begin to race. Then, without another word, she quickly stuffed the book back into her bag and stood. The table caught her hip and nearly flipped over, skittering aside and wobbling.

“Thanks for the coffee, Oliver.” Weiss said, trying not to let the shaking reach her voice, “It’s been a pleasure.”

“You too…” Oliver muttered as he watched his odd guest all but bolt out the door.

 

Ђ

 

Her father’s words were still tumbling through her head when the cabby pulled onto the street that would take them to the hotel. Ruby’s eyes were affixed to the beautiful scenery just beyond her touch, separated by the thin window of the little yellow cab, but her heart was chewing those words over. Pulling them apart, comparing them to her own thoughts, deciding what she felt about them.

“Hey, Miss.” The cabby said, “Isn’t that your friend there?”

Ruby looked up. The car had slowed down to a crawl and the cabby was pointing at his window. Beyond it, to be specific, at the heiress. She stood just outside Patch’s Pocket Editions, one of Ruby’s favorite places to hang with her sister when she was in grade school. She looked pale—more so than usual, that is—and apparently hadn’t noticed them pull up.

“Should I let you out here?” The cabby asked.

“Yeah. Here’s fine.” Ruby said, reaching to unbuckle her seatbelt.

The car stopped and the cabby hopped out, turning around and opening Ruby’s door before she could reach the latch herself. He offered her a kind, professional smile as she stepped out.

“Thank you for your custom.” He said.

“And thank you for the ride, Sir.” Ruby said with a quick curtsy.

She turned and walked over to Weiss. The woman didn’t notice until Ruby was right beside her. She looked like a lost child, turning this way and that as she appeared to look for something. Or someone…

“Thanks for waiting for me, Weiss.” Ruby said with a cheery grin.

Weiss turned her way, eyes wide and face white as paper. For a moment, she looked like she might cry. This went away quickly enough, replaced with the heiress’s usual calm demeanor, but not before Ruby had the instinct to pull her into a hug.

“Did you see him?” Weiss asked, sounding alarmed.

“See who?”

Weiss’s shoulders slumped and her face straightened. She looked back up the street, maybe thinking somewhere in herself that she might catch a glimpse of that black rancher’s hat. She didn’t. Looking back to Ruby, her heart finally slowed pace a bit. Of course she hadn’t seen him; how could she have?

Weiss took a deep breath and sighed.

“Nevermind…” Weiss said at last.

Ruby eyed her with head tilted, a little worried and a lot lost. The cabby, who had waited patiently during this exchange, stepped forward. He nervously twiddled his thumbs with eyes on the ground before looking up, meeting Weiss’s icy stare and almost choking. Even he, out here in Patch, knew the Schnees and their famous heiress.

He’d never personally met a celebrity before this day. Now, having done so twice in the span of just over an hour, his nerves were stretched thin.

“Thank you very much for the tip, Miss.” He said, “Was there anything else you might need?”

“Yes.” Weiss said, “We require transport to the airship landing. Take us to the hotel so we can get our things.”

“But, Weiss… I already have my stuff in the trunk… and the hotel’s in easy walking distance, just up the street.” Ruby said, now a little more worried over her friend’s odd behavior.

The heiress turned to her. The look she gave was one Ruby hadn’t seen in a while. It was that same look she’d sported endlessly when they first met—aloof, professional and elite—no mistaking it.

“I left my things there after you were off.” Weiss said, “ _I_ still need to get _my_ luggage.”

Ruby left it alone at that.

They hopped in the cab, it pulled up to the hotel and Weiss exited. She was back in a moment, baggage in hand and suitcase pulled behind her. She rounded the cab and put it in the trunk once the cabby popped it open. Ruby watched her the whole time, wondering what had gotten into her.

When they got to the landing, Weiss purchased an expedited ticket. They were on the airship—first class, Baron’s cabin—and headed for Atlas within the hour. Weiss made little conversation the whole way. She looked to Ruby like something heavy was on her heart. Ruby couldn’t have guessed what, of course, but certainly spared no effort in trying. Weiss, on the other hand, could only think of one thing the entire trip…

The handsome man and his startling words.


	11. Roses in Spring

Finale

Roses in Spring

 

Ђ

 

Ruby looked about the restaurant. It was simply enormous. How could something so huge even fit in the building? She didn’t know—couldn’t fathom—so instead stared in rapt amazement.

Waiters and waitresses skittered to and fro, balancing assortments of dishes and drinks like acrobats or jugglers at a circus. They moved with swift grace, taking orders and bussing tables. They spoke to guests like old friends, professional in a manner that defied logic—as though they _were_ friends, not servants. The tables were appointed so lavish as to be nearly appalling. Virginal-white tablecloths one would be afraid to eat over, flower arrangements one would fear disturbed but by a simple breath. Fine and delicate dinnerware more closely resembling art than plates or glasses.

Weiss sat across from Ruby, looking at her friend with slight amusement. She’d known the woman was not used to the finer things in life, but it was still funny to see firsthand. And this wasn’t like seeing Ruby’s reaction to her room, on that night that felt so long ago, but instead like watching a child who has just tasted some wondrous new flavor. A depth of excitement, hope and naiveté that was simultaneously refreshing and endearing—and a tad saddening, for some reason.

Weiss looked to her glass, ignoring the fact that Ruby still had not answered her question. Maybe it was unusual for her friend to act so, but the heiress found it to be neither here nor there. What _was_ both here and there was that the glass of wine—her second glass of the evening—was half empty. Had she truly indulged so deeply on this outing? Thinking of the occasion, Weiss decided that, even if so, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Cut loose once in a while, or become so tightly wound as fit to burst. Ruby _was_ rubbing off on her, it seemed.

“I can’t believe you, Ruby.” Weiss said, looking back to her friend.

Ruby still looked utterly lost, despite having been in the restaurant for well over half an hour by then. It was as though no amount of looking would satiate her. The place was so new; how could she take it all in?

Ruby’s eyes made their way back to Weiss shortly thereafter, and she looked sleepy. Or at least dazed, perhaps.

“I’ve never seen a place so… _big_.” Ruby said.

“So you’ve told me, and for the fifth time now.” Weiss said, then laughed. Not a long laugh, nor a hard laugh, but one full of mirth and life.

“I have?” Ruby sounded shocked in earnest, “Well… even if I have, I still mean it. This place is amazing!”

Weiss laughed again—another tiny, mirthful chuckle—and said, “Just you wait until the food gets here.”

The heiress decided to drop her unanswered question, at least for now. It was not the time for unsavory topics or lines of thought. No, it was time to celebrate a job well-done.

“I have to say, though, I really am impressed with you.” Weiss said.

“Oh?” Ruby said, sounding a tad impish.

Weiss hummed an affirmation. She picked up her glass, took another sip of the wine and sighed.

“Getting perfect marks on the End of Year Finals is no simple endeavor, as I’m sure you can attest.” Weiss said, “That being so, you did it with only two weeks to prepare. Once more I’ll say: I’m impressed.”

But she was lying, even if only a little. For while Weiss indeed was impressed, she was also happy and maybe even a tad proud. She would not say these things, of course—only hope that they were understood.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Weiss.” Ruby said.

“Oh no, you’re not passing that onto me.” Weiss said, and offered a smirk, “ _You_ did the studying, and _you_ took the tests—”

“But you helped me so much with both of those!” Ruby interrupted, raising her voice a tad louder than she should’ve. For a moment after, she was embarrassed by this little outburst. When Weiss smiled, calm and demure, it went away.

“I helped you study, I won’t deny that. But you’re the one who wanted it so badly that you put all those hours—all those sleepless, caffeine-stricken nights—into retaining and understanding it. Pat yourself on the back, for crying out loud!”

Ruby smiled, blushing a tad. She took hold of her own glass of wine and raised it, holding it out toward the heiress.

“Then how ‘bout a toast?” Ruby said, “To both of us. For studying so hard, for keeping our chins up and noses to the grinding-wheel.”

Weiss looked at her for a moment in a bit of shock, head tilted and eyes wide with one eyebrow raised. She then picked up her glass.

“A toast it is.” Weiss said, extending the glass, “To a job well-done and a reward well-earned.”

Just before their glasses clinked, in a voice nearly too tiny to hear, Ruby said, “And good friends.”

The clinking of their glasses almost drowned it out, but Weiss caught it. This stuttered her for a moment, but the heiress recovered and made as though nothing were amiss. They clinked glasses again and drank a small sip.

“You’ve helped me more than just those tests, Weiss.” Ruby said after a moment of silence.

She looked up carefully, as though she felt she’d said an insult. Weiss only looked back, not stunned but not speaking either.

“You didn’t _have to_ take me all the way to Vacuo, and Patch, and you certainly didn’t _have to_ attend the funeral with me…”

Weiss looked away. Ruby watched her friend eye first the glass of wine in her hand, then the tablecloth beneath. She looked ashamed, somehow, but why?

“Weiss, you’ve been such a good friend—and not just for helping me study, or going out of your way like that! The fact that you went _with_ me, instead of just paying the way, means a lot…”

Just before adding a bit more, Ruby recalled the event on the cliff. In a moment, her lips were ablaze and her chest tight. The skin all over her body began to flush and heat, and her entire face became the rosy hue of thorough embarrassment. Ruby looked away as well, anywhere but Weiss’s direction.

“You’re welcome.” Weiss said—all but whispered—before either of them could truly consider crawling away to hide somewhere.

“Thank you.” Ruby said, and left it at that.

 

Ђ

 

The main course came ten minutes after the awkward bit of conversation and recollection. Weiss ordered braised salmon with a shallot topping and a side of parboiled okra. Ruby, at the heiress’s urging, ordered a simpler fare to match her less eclectic tastes. Filet mignon with a helping of ginger-sauce atop and a side of mashed potatoes. The waiter serving them brought the meals with the same grace and balance as Ruby had marveled over for most of their stay this evening. He sat the plates before them, wished them ‘bon appetit’ and went on his way.

Weiss dug in with all the reserved grace one might expect of her pedigree. Ruby did the same, in her own manner, and both enjoyed the food. Another ten minutes was spent on the eating, with only a scant bit of conversation. No, there was no such thing as an honest politician. Yes, that woman four tables down had picked a most _gaudy_ color scheme. Maybe someone might one day walk upon the surface of Remnant’s moon. Water if Dust wills it, and all that nonsense.

Then, about half-way through the meal, Ruby looked up at her friend. Feeling her gaze, Weiss looked up as well. The tiny bit of mashed potato stuck to Ruby’s cheek elicited a brief giggle, stifled quickly with napkin in hand.

Oblivious, Ruby smiled and said, “You seek it out when your hunger’s ripe. It sits on four legs, and smokes a pipe.”

The chuckle died in her throat as Weiss stared at Ruby, bemused. Then, after a moment’s thought followed by sudden realization, she understood what this was. And in that moment, in the confines of her recently thawed heart, the heiress stirred and recalled that she had missed this…

“A game at dinner, huh?” Weiss said before wiping her mouth, “Is it a wood stove?”

“Ding-ding!” Ruby said with squeaky joy, “Your turn, Weiss.”

A smile fit to split her face adorned Ruby’s lips. As Ruby went back to her meal, eagerly awaiting Weiss’s retort, the heiress noted something. She assured herself it was nothing, but that smile didn’t look quite right.

Weiss looked around for a moment. Caught off-guard, she had nothing ready to offer. When her eyes settled on a plate of deviled eggs being carried by a passing waitress, it came to her.

“A word I know, six letters it contains. Take away just one, and only twelve remains.” Weiss said with a coy smirk.

She looked back to Ruby, whose cheeks bulged comically with a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Ruby chewed twice, reached for her glass of water and swallowed with a large gulp. Weiss managed to stop the laugh that wanted out this time.

“Um…” Ruby hummed, thinking on the riddle.

She scratched her head and tilted her eyes to the gilded ceiling. As they crawled across the depiction of cherubs and seraphim, Weiss spotted a detail that had stuck out to her on more than one occasion this evening. A glinting sparkle the likes of which she’d either never noticed—which she would’ve claimed impossible—or had simply never been present before. It made Ruby’s eyes look like something more silver than silver, bringing to mind a word from a fictive work Weiss had loved as a child.

_True silver_ she recalled it to mean, and smiled as she watched her friend stare at the ceiling in quiet contemplation.

“Dozens?” Ruby said at last, and Weiss only smiled further.

“You speak true, sai Ruby.” Weiss said with a forced drawl.

This time it was Ruby who chuckled. Again Weiss noted something that felt off. Nothing she could put her finger on, but enough to notice all the same.

“Your turn?” Weiss asked.

Ruby began to think again, and again the heiress watched. There was a thin smile on her lips as she did, along with a faint twitch at the corners of her mouth.

Off on the other side of the restaurant, there was a stage on which a small orchestra produced a pleasant tune. A soft, easy melody of wind- and string-instruments, conducted by none but meticulously harmonious all the same. At this moment, the apparent lead sawed away at a small wooden implement clutched tightly under her neck. Ruby looked their way, smiled again and looked back at Weiss.

“My voice is tender, my waist is slender and I’m often invited to play. Alas, wherever I go I must bring my bow, if I’m to have anything to say.”

Weiss had followed her friend’s gaze and seen where it landed. The heiress felt a bit bad for it, but offered her answer no sooner than the words had left Ruby’s lips.

“A violin.” Weiss said with another coy smirk.

“Mmhm.” Ruby hummed, going right back to her food.

No more riddles were shared that evening, but both were rejuvenated by the few that were. They finished their food and wine. The waiter came, took their orders for dessert and refilled their glasses. The commotion and bustle all around them—people speaking of this and that, forks and spoons clinking on fine china plates—continued unabated. All the while, Weiss began to notice more and more of this seeming off sensation coming from her friend. The woman _looked_ hale and hearty, but it _felt_ as though something were amiss.

With some slight reservation, she came back to her unanswered question and decided to ask it again.

“Do you have any plans for the break?” Weiss said, cautious and not a little anxious.

Ruby didn’t answer at first, instead having a sip of her wine. Her nose wrinkled and her upper lip puckered a bit. It was a reaction Weiss found oddly endearing, due mostly to how much it spoke of Ruby’s willingness to try and find common ground where there truly was none.

_That_ , and it was damn cute.

“I guess I’ll go see Dad again.” Ruby said after setting her glass down. This time, Weiss was sure she heard the off quality loud and clear.

“I’m sure he’ll be very excited and proud to see those test results.” Weiss said.

The waiter came with their desserts. He set a small slice of peach tiramisu before Ruby and a bowl of crema catalana before the heiress. The man then bowed and wished them another ‘bon appetit’ before setting a small, black booklet on the table. Before he could leave, Weiss grabbed the booklet and handed it back to him with a tiny piece of plastic on top.

“Twenty percent gratuity, my good man.” Weiss said, “And take your time bringing it back.”

The waiter, surely not a man given to easy emotion, looked quite shocked at that. His face reddened a tad, but beyond that was the smile. Like his colleagues, the waiter had shown no emotion aside from extreme friendliness the entire time. Now, though, he smiled wide and hard.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He said, offering another bow.

Weiss merely waved her hand as if to brush him off. He left without looking up, much like an actor retreating off-stage. The heiress looked back to her friend.

“How’s he holding up?” She asked.

Ruby poked at her tiramisu without much real interest, avoiding the heiress’s gaze.

“It’s only been a month…” She muttered.

“How are _you_ holding up?”

With hardly a missed beat, and nary a thought given, Ruby smiled.

“I’m doing fine.” Ruby said, and now Weiss saw the smile for what it was.

“Have you read the letter?”

“Not yet.” Ruby said, smile faltering but remaining.

Not wanting to spoil the dinner entirely, Weiss took to her bowl of custard. The caramelized surface cracked to reveal the creamy goodness beneath with but the barest touch of her fork. She took a bite and had some wine, trying both to gather her thoughts and let the implications settle. When Weiss set the glass down and looked upon the shifting velvet within, it was somehow comforting to see it half full.

Then, much unlike her old self and much like her new self, Weiss said, “I’m here if you need someone to talk to.”

She took another bite, and nearly choked when a loud clang came from Ruby’s end of the table. Weiss looked up. Ruby’s face was red and splotchy but, despite holding that same mysterious sparkle, her eyes remained dry.

“Thank you.” Ruby said, and began to weep.

 

Ͼ

 

Weiss awoke to the blaring of her alarm clock. Morning sunshine poured in through her window. Its shade had been fully drawn up and left so all night, letting the sunlight in to tickle her flesh and sting at her closed eyes. She opened them and rolled over, looking around blearily. The room was still quite a mess, but this somehow did not bother her is it once would have.

The coffee table was indistinguishable due to the ridiculous pile of paper atop it. Buried somewhere in there was her two favorite coffee cups. The couch’s cushions were disheveled and one had even managed to fall to the floor, there to be forgotten. The floor itself was not much better, books scattered here and there all across it. Over on her desk, which was also _covered_ in paper and scraps of paper, Ruby’s radio—which the lovable oaf had forgotten to take back with her—continued to play a soft country tune.

Weiss sat up and stretched while a man sang in a pleasing voice of how beer was good and people were crazy. The heiress thought about this for a moment, and decided at least half of that was true. Perhaps she’d never develop a taste for hops and barley, but she could easily attest that people were indeed crazy.

She looked at her clock, which read o-nine-hundred hours. Seems she had hit the snooze button once or twice, but this mattered little.

With an achiness that was both foreign and comforting, Weiss departed her bed and sauntered to the kitchenette. She flipped the coffee-maker’s switch, setting it to brew her morning poison, then placed one of the exhumed coffee cups beside it. A look across the kitchen counter revealed only two bananas and half a bag of bagels, and she knew the fridge would be empty. Weiss shrugged, turned and headed for her bathroom.

Already in the nude and entirely careless of her newest habit, the heiress stepped into the shower and spun the knob. Cold water rushed from the overhanging spout. It was jarring yet refreshing on her flesh, which for some reason was flushed and awfully hot. She took her shower—taking so little time as to not even experience the warm water—and exited again, dripping the whole way to her wardrobe with unused towel in hand.

Weiss patted herself dry in front of the mighty oaken fixture, ignoring her hair altogether. She then opened it and pulled out an outfit, sparing no real thought for whether or not it matched. It did, but this was almost entirely due to dumb luck. Once she’d pulled on her undergarments and stepped into her pants, a chime resounded from her nightstand. She shut the wardrobe, tossed her shirt and bra onto the bed and picked up her scroll.

Looking at the name displayed, Weiss smiled and answered.

 

α

 

Ruby’s eyes, bloodshot and burning, peeled open at the first light of day. The sun lay just over the horizon, barely topping the hills far off to the east and casting its first thin tendrils of light into the University City. Her apartment, which sat on the far western side behind a number of taller buildings, only saw some few stray strands of this light. Her room, on the second of seventeen floors, received only the reflected glow of these.

But it was enough to hurt her eyes, which were just as tired and exhausted from the night’s tears as when sleep had finally taken her only some five hours earlier.

Ruby tried to sit up and her abs protested this immediately. A sharp pain fired through her and set her to coughing. This lasted for a full minute before Ruby recovered, forced herself to sit up and looked around.

The small studio apartment was a disheveled wreck. Clothes lay strewn about, ignored in forgotten piles and only barely separated enough to facilitate a semblance of free movement. On her desk, just beside the small bed, a pile of Styrofoam takeout boxes had become a mountain, leaning and threatening to fall over at any moment. Her backpack sat tucked away beneath the desk, devoid of its contents—these were strewn about the room, forgotten and uncared for since the end of her studies for the rigorous tests.

With burning chest and aching stomach, Ruby stood from her bed. Her legs were none too happy about this and just about buckled under the tiny bit of stress. She stumbled forward and fell into a small pile of clothes.

“Damn it…” Ruby hissed, rubbing her right leg. It ached worst of all.

The previous night came back to her, and Ruby began to feel a bit ashamed of herself. After all the encouragement and help—both from her family and her newfound friend—she was letting it all fall apart around her. But in the end, what much did such things matter? That question, and the shame of letting it all go, was becoming harder and harder to care about.

After picking herself up from the pile of forgotten laundries, Ruby made for the tiny kitchen nook. She opened the little half-fridge on the counter, peering into its humming emptiness with dead eyes. Nothing—no bagels, no milk, not even crumbs enough for a mouse—lay within. She shut it to the sound of her rumbling stomach, cursed under her breath again and navigated another two piles of clothes.

How long had it been since Weiss came here? At least a month before her world fell apart, for certain. Her room had been a study in painstaking cleanliness then—at least, as much so as Ruby had ever managed—and had impressed her then-partner in studies. Now? Now it was a wreck, much resemblant of her room in those first few years after the injury that had precluded her from her dream.

An old dream, a dead dream, that now mattered as little as the rest.

Ruby’s head swam from its dreary murk only for her eyes to see the mirror in her bathroom. She looked blindly at the crack in the bottom-left corner. The crusty blood on the knuckles of her left hand told her this was fresh damage. Ruby scoffed and turned to the shower.

She slipped out of her pajamas, turned the knob only so far as to get the water flowing and stepped in. It was cold as ice, and she didn’t care. Matter of fact, she didn’t even notice. She would wash herself just as every morning, she would step out and dress her wounded hand. She would go about her morning—go through the motions and the movements—until it was time. Time, that is, to go to the Siren’s Call and ask her boss for a favor. And why should he deny her? Had she not been the source of the club’s spike in attendance?

Not for pride but for cold, hard fact, Ruby knew she _was_ that source. She also knew he wouldn’t deny her request. Mahogany was a good, kind man—a rare commodity in what was gradually seeming an ever colder world to Ruby—and as such he would ask a few well-meaning questions, nod his head in understanding and grant her request.

So Ruby finished her shower, ignored her growling stomach and got ready. She dressed in the first clean outfit she managed to dig up. Of course, having no real reason to care, she entirely forwent the application of any cosmetics.

Once this was done, and she was as ready as she would get, Ruby walked to her door. She looked to her wrist to see the time, noticing that the Cheshire grin of her wristwatch was not there. She dropped her hand to her side and grabbed the doorknob, turned it and pulled. Then, just before leaving, she stopped.

Ruby looked out into the beautiful morning—the few people bustling along the sidewalk across the parking-lot, the many-colored birds flitting through the sky, the spring-green trees billowing in a light breeze—and shut the door. She turned and bolted to her nightstand, tears already welling in her eyes, and snatched up the little watch. After fixing it in place, just as she was about to try and leave again, Ruby decided there was one more thing she needed. It hurt her heart to even look upon it, and heavens forfend how much it hurt to hold it, but she simply wouldn’t— _couldn’t_ —leave without it.

When Ruby finally left, headed for the train that would take her deeper into the city, a bright, rose-red cloak billowed behind her.

 

Ͼ

 

“Calm you seem, Weiss. Content, serene… Fare well for you, life has?”

Weiss looked across the little coffee table at her old mentor—her old _friend_ —and smiled. In the cool, spring breeze, his few gossamer strands of white hair tousled and tossed. His face, covered so thoroughly in wrinkles as to be quite comic, was lifted like a curtain with a great grin. He leaned forward on his cane, wizened blue eyes staring intently at the heiress’s face.

“I take it you heard about our… success with the exams?” Weiss said.

Axter sat up a bit—as much as he could, what with the massive hump upon his centenarian back—and turned his gaze. A cherry tree in fresh bloom loomed over them, scattering its many pink blossoms everywhere. The table was covered with them, the cobblestone street dusted finely in the—even their steaming drinks were no exception. A few had managed to becoming tangled in Axter’s thin hair, making him look some few decades younger.

“Much pride you bring me.” Axter said, looking back to his former protégé. He picked a few petals from his tea and took a sip, smacking his droopy lips with blatant pleasure.

“Thank you.” Weiss said, beaming with no small bit of pride, “But… I’m not the only one who deserves praise. Honestly, next to _her_ , my triumph is really nothing of note.”

Axter raised one eyebrow, which was as long and fine as the hair on his head and billowed with the same playfulness in the wind. He smiled again, making his wrinkled jowls look like a series of many more smiling lips.

“Think our conversation has settled in, I do.” He said, having another sip of his tea, “Think you have taken the words I gave to heart, I do indeed.”

Axter chuckled, which sounded something like a series of humming noises mixed with a nasally cough.

“She’s really quite bright.” Weiss said, staring at her own tea whilst picking petals out of it, “And quite brave, too. I mean, after going through what she has, I can’t imagine _how_ she’s still functioning so well…”

Then the image of Ruby the previous night—smiling, laughing, cutting up, yet still seeming so off—came back to Weiss. With an unconscious frown, she plucked the last pink petal from her tea. The heiress held it and stared, turning it over and back again with absent interest. A moment later, she tossed it away, where it hit a soft breeze and began to float, and picked up the tea.

“See you care so much about another, never again did I think I might.” Axter said, snapping Weiss out of her thin trance, “Lighten my spirit, it does. A good friend, found you seem to have. Protect this, you should, Weiss.”

The heiress looked up at her old mentor, and her eyes suddenly felt hot and heavy. Not soon after, her face began to flush and her heart began to race.

“A good friend…” Weiss repeated in a low whisper.

“Mm, a good friend indeed. And care much, you seem to. Gainsay this, can you?”

Weiss thought about it for a moment, trying hard not to let the tears roll down her cheeks. She picked up her napkin and patted the corners of her eyes. Above them, the cherry tree let loose another bushel of petals which scattered like pink snow. Axter caught one in his hand with a gentle grip and held it out to her.

“See this tiny petal, do you?” He said, his voice taking on a gentle tone akin to when he would give her lessons as a child, “So beautiful and so bright, yet not long shall it last. Soon brown and dead it will be, like so many petals before it… like so many after it…”

Her icy eyes looked upon that tiny, pink petal in rapt awe. Axter’s lessons had always carried a weight to them that could be felt in just his tone. Even now, nigh unto two decades after she’d outgrown his tutorship, Weiss sunk into something akin to a trance listening to him.

Still holding the petal in his open palm, Axter went on, “A symbol of life and death, the cherry tree is. Yet, also a symbol of friendship and life do I see it as. In the Spring it blossoms, scatters its petals to the wind. Beautiful it is, if only for a time, but come back it will—with care and faithful tending.”

Another faint breeze picked up, tousling the snow-white hair of both and carrying the little petal away.

“Many kinds there are, in Winter and Spring, both, blooming. Wheresoever taken, cared for and wanted, will they find purchase…”

Axter licked his lips and took a sip of tea.

“Much like friendship, is it not? Cared for, wished for, pined for it must be, if ever it is to take root and thrive. Fragile, also, it is, like the tiny petal.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Weiss said. She was still in that dreamy state that Axter’s voice tended to put her in when he imparted wisdom.

“Why, indeed…” Axter hummed, looking up at the tree. His wizened old eyes crawled across its blooms in plaintive reverence, an old, painful memory playing in his head.

Weiss watched him for a moment, then looked away. Her eyes found her tea first, from which she plucked many petals that had fallen in. As she drank the tea—unintentionally draining it entirely—a bell began to ring from a tower behind her. It chimed twice, loud and high, indicating the time had reached two in the afternoon.

Weiss sat the empty cup on its saucer, looked at her old mentor—who still stared raptly at the pink blooms above them—and thought about his words. It didn’t take long for the heiress to decide to ask the question that had sparked this meeting, which she had set up almost a week earlier.

With a sigh, Weiss said, “And what of love?”

For a moment, Axter continued to stare at the blooms. Then, with eyes widening in utter surprise, he looked from them to Weiss. Never in all the years that she’d known him had Weiss seen his eyes open so wide. And in that moment, seeing her old mentor’s eyes fully for the first time, she realized they weren’t blue at all—some trick of only ever seeing them open half-way, surely.

“Love?” Axter repeated, his lavender eyes open as wide as they could possibly be.

“Yes.” Weiss said, matter-of-factly, “Tell me what you think—what you _know_ —of it.”

 

α

 

Ruby looked at her watch. The long paw pointed straight up, the short one tick behind. It was only eleven, and she was already wanting to go back home—to her actual home, in Patch, where she could let go of all these fanciful ideas of fancy education and important work. Where she could start gathering things together, scheming her scheme and making herself ready. Ready, that is, for something she never would have considered even just two months prior.

The train lurched as the brakes engaged, slowing the monolith to a halt. Ruby looked up and watched the people all around begin to shuffle for the door. It opened with a whoosh and they filed out, only to be replaced by just as many—if not _more_ —not a moment after. Mostly younger people like herself, only these wore business attire and were clearly on their way to or from lunch. One, however, parted the crowd with her entry.

A woman with a dust-mask over her mouth sauntered in, coughing and hacking and gripping her chest. Her cheeks were flushed and her brow slick with a thin sheen of sweat. She stumbled once, two men stepping quickly away so as not to be touched, and barely regained herself before grabbing one of the overhead handles. The woman’s grip looked weak and strained.

Ruby watched for only a moment before reaching out, lightly grasping the woman’s blazer and tugging. The woman looked around, startled.

“Here.” Ruby said, and stood.

She pointed to the empty seat—the only one vacant in the train car—and the woman clearly understood. They switched places, Ruby taking hold of the handle while the woman sat down. Then Ruby felt a tug on her cloak. She looked at the lady now in her former seat. Her mask was pulled down.

“Thank you.” The woman croaked, to which Ruby only smiled in return.

Ruby turned back around and watched the buildings pass by just beyond the window. She felt the bulge in her pocket, hoping the Lien would be enough to see her plans to fruition.

Just as she’d thought, Mahogany had been most generous when she asked for the advance in pay. Of course, Ruby had neglected to mention she had no intention of coming back—to either the University _or_ the Siren’s Call—but this little lie didn’t faze her to tell. For a moment there had been a glimmer in his eye and she thought he might have known somehow, but that momentary fear was assuaged when he did nothing more than ask her how much and immediately give her the requested monies.

The train came to another stop some ten minutes later. Ruby snapped out of her ruminations when the brakes once more caused it to lurch. She looked, saw the bistros and cafes just below and beyond the platform. Then, just before the doors closed, Ruby slipped through them.

A spot of tea before heading off would do her well, she supposed.

 

Ͼ

 

“And why ask this question, do you?”

There had been ten minutes of silence. In it, Weiss had felt her heartbeat climb to a manic pace and her skin flush all over. From her forehead all the way to her toes. After seeing her mentor’s eyes fully for the first time—in all their bright and wizened lavender glory—the heiress had made no further eye-contact.

Now, finally looking at Axter again, Weiss said, “I’m just curious, is all.”

And this was not entirely a lie. Axter, of course, would not be fooled in the slightest. Eyes still fully open, he raised one brow and scratched his chin. Were his tea not empty, he might’ve sipped on it to wet his dry throat.

“Wondered, I did.” Axter said in a sagely tone, “Ask no more about it, I will. Answer, instead, your question I shall.”

A hard breeze picked up and Weiss felt a shiver fire up her spine. The tree over them loosed so many petals, it looked to her as if the thing must surely go bare. It did not, however, and seemed to have a limitless supply of the tiny flowers.

“Powerful.” Axter said, “Longsuffering, patient, enduring… These things and many more, it is. A great mountain of stone, unassailable by all but the most determined. Many imitations there are, but only one truth. Softly called and softer answered, rarely heard and rarer mastered.”

Axter looked to Weiss as if he might go on, but suddenly stopped. The little old man spied something behind her and stood, offering one last comment before departing.

“How enormous and mysterious life is, you must try _not_ to forget. Even if the clouds gather, lose not that light, Weiss. _That is love_ …”

Weiss stood as if to go after him. Another chill assailed her, and she stopped. The heiress watched Axter totter off, hobbling on his twisted cane, as a feeling of being watched fell over her. She turned around to see only the same passersby—none that stood out, none she recognized—and was at a loss.

She sat back down and considered his words, along with her own. Why had she asked him that, anyway? She had wanted this meeting to discuss certain… revelations with him, this chief among them. But to come right out and ask was not like her, not at all.

Behind Weiss, off in the bistro where a crowd of lunchtime customers went about their business, a pair of emerald-green eyes watched her. _He_ knew the answer to every question she had now, every question she’d had in the past, and every question she would have hereafter. And not just Weiss either, but the woman who sat snoozing at a table by the front window.

He knew, but he intended to make both women find the answers themselves—in themselves and of themselves.

 

α

 

_She stands in a field of roses. Red as can be, stretching on to the horizon no matter which way she looks. And she looks every which way, for she knows she is lost. She can feel it in her bones. But there is a warm breeze blowing across the field, tilting those roses and making it look like a roiling ocean of blood. Then the breeze picks up the petals, scattering them into the sky to join the oranges and purples in the clouds from the setting sun._

_Ruby feels a presence beside her, and looks. It’s Yang, of all people, and her heart is suddenly as lead in her chest. It hurts so bad; it feels so heavy…_

_“Keep that chin up, Sis.” Yang says, watching the swirling cloud of red._

_But Ruby has no words to reply. Her mouth is full of cotton, or so it feels. She opens it and tries, but only thick sobs come out for her trouble. Yang looks to her, and, for the first time she can ever recall, Ruby doesn’t want to look her sister in the eye. Those lavenders feel like they’re burning holes in her…_

_Then she feels another presence. Ruby turns, fully around, to see another woman. She doesn’t recognize this one. The woman stands just as tall as she does, but her figure is more filled out and the top of her face is obscured by a hood atop a white cloak that billows in the breeze. Across her mouth, which Ruby_ can _see, there is a wide smile._

_“Yang’s right.” The woman says in a very familiar voice, “You need to keep your chin up. You’re better than this…”_

_Ruby opens her mouth to speak, but is hushed by two things. The first is an overwhelming gust that traverses the entire, endless field, scattering every last petal from every last rose and making a veritable blanket of blood-red. The second, and even more powerful, is the warmth that suddenly presses against her back and wraps around her._

_Without looking, she knows it is Yang. Her sister hugs her tight from behind, giving off a comforting warmth that halts all other action or thought._

_“Yang’s keeping me company just fine.” The woman in the white cloak says._

_“Yeah, and neither one of us wants you here any time soon.” Yang says, and squeezes a tad tighter._

_Ruby’s eyes begin to flow like a faucet, with no warning. The tears roll freely and hard. A river, by no other word, pours down her face and onto her sister’s crossed arms._

_The woman in the white cloak steps up to Ruby. She pulls her hood down, and it’s like looking into a mirror, perhaps even taking off a few years. Ruby’s mouth opens to speak again, and she finally manages the words that have been nowhere to be found. Her voice is thick, her chest is tight and her lungs feel as though they must surely burst._

_“Mom…” Ruby chokes out. Not a moment after, her crying is inconsolable._

_Summer takes another step and wraps both her daughters in her arms. It is a fantastic feeling Ruby would never trade for anything._

_“I love you so much.” Summer whispers into Ruby’s ear, “We both do, my sweet little Rose. So please… Don’t throw yourself away.”_

_Ruby nods her understanding. And in her mother’s arms, it feels like she_ could _let it go. It feels as though there might just be a reason to turn away and relinquish the idea of seeking bloody satisfaction. But there is something wrong, too, that keeps that feeling from fully overcoming her. Something cold and vicious and just strong enough to keep Ruby from changing her mind._

_And that cold, vicious thing stands at the edge of the field of roses, watching the three women. Ruby feels its gaze…_

 

Ђ

 

Ruby bolted upright in her chair, knocking the table in front of her over and throwing her tea to the floor. She looked around, still feeling the warmth of her mother’s arms. It was like a cruel joke—that she should only ever know that feeling from a dream, having lost her when she was so young—and her eyes immediately began to throb with fresh tears.

“Are you ok?”

A woman stood just beside her, clearly worried. It was the barista that had taken her order. Ruby gave her a weak smile and tried to brush it off.

“I’m fine, just woke up a little suddenly is all.” Ruby said, “I’ll pay for the cup and the commotion.”

“That’s fine, Ma’am.” The barista said with a pitying look, “Just wanted to be sure you were alright.”

Ruby stood and picked up the table. The barista watched a moment longer, looking as though she might offer another worried question or two, before leaving. The entire crowd in the little bistro stared at Ruby, which she realized after having a look around. Having no want to further embarrass herself, Ruby took some of the paper Lien from her pocket and set it on the table before leaving. She hurried across the room and went outside.

The day was so beautiful. Spring was in full run. The air was just warm enough to be comfortable, there was barely a cloud in the bright blue sky and cherry petals flitted about like snow. Looking at her wristwatch, Ruby saw she had napped a good three hours away. Of course, even with the gorgeous day greeting her, her present mood soured any rest the nap might have imparted.

She started to walk off to the train station. Every instinct burned within her to hop on, ride it to the airship landing on the other side of town and purchase a one-way ticket to Patch. Two steps on, and this plan was halted by a familiar voice.

“Ruby?”

Weiss, who had been thinking on her own problems, noticed her friend just as she was about to take that third step. Calling out to her, in a moment of mixed relief and surprise, Weiss ensured that step didn’t happen. Then Ruby turned, and Weiss’s relief was replaced with a burning dismay that tasted of stomach-acid.

Her friend was a portrait of a disheveled, emotionally wrecked mess—something that belonged more in a Psychiatry One-o-One manual. Her boots were only laced, not tied, and the socks beneath weren’t matched. Her dress was a wrinkled mess, her bodice laced up only half-way. The sleeves of her petticoat poked out at unmatched length, and worst of all was the hastily bandage hand that looked to still be bleeding a tad.

“Ruby…” Weiss said again, in a low and worried tone, “What happened to you?”

“Nothing.” Ruby said, “I was just in a rush this morning, that’s all.”

She tried to put on the smile and cheery façade she’d worn for most of the last month. In all truth, it was a success to no small degree—a success that did nothing to fool Weiss, this time. When this became apparent to her, Ruby thought first to turn and run for the train. She knew she could, but something stayed her feet.

Weiss stood and walked to her friend. As she approached, the urge to run grew stronger in Ruby. Still she did not, but only barely.

“You’re a mess.” Weiss said, reaching a hand out to Ruby. The hand approached her face, slow and careful, but stopped just short of contact. Weiss pulled it back just as slowly and clutched it to her chest.

And Ruby watched this with a cosmos of thoughts tumbling around her fevered mind.

“I guess I am…” She said, sighing.

Weiss reached out again, and a wondrous thing happened. This time her hand made it all the way to Ruby’s face, touching her cheek with a reserved sort of care. Like a chemist pouring two frightfully volatile chemicals together, worried they might blow the entire lab to oblivion at the slightest hiccup. And as that tender touch was made, the hardest breeze of the day blew through. The cherry trees all around the bistro’s courtyard buckled and swayed, loosing every last petal from every last bloom. Just like in Ruby’s dream, the petals swirled around like a sea…

Pink this time, like hope rather than blood.

“What are you doing, Weiss?” Ruby asked, her voice breaking and her eyes overflowing.

Weiss looked on in dumb silence, watching her friend’s eyes pour streams that looked like flowing silver by some trick of the sunlight.

“What _am_ I doing…” Weiss said faintly, more to herself than Ruby.

She started to pull her hand back. Ruby took hold of it and pressed it back where it was, leaning her cheek into Weiss’s cool palm. The heiress felt her tears, hot and plentiful, as the woman began to openly sob. So she stepped closer and wrapped her other arm around Ruby’s waist, pulling her into an embrace. Soft at first, but stronger after a time. How long? Neither could have answered if later asked.

“Are you really going to go see your Dad with such a sad face?” Weiss whispered, slipping her hand from Ruby’s face and hugging the woman with both arms.

Ruby’s response was to openly wail.

 

Ω

 

How many minutes passed before Ruby finally spoke again? Answering in a logical, practically grounded manner, Weiss would’ve said twenty. Answering in a more esoteric, emotionally charged manner, she would’ve said ages. No matter which, however, Weiss would never be able to deny—even unto her dying day, in a field of lilies and monkshoods—that she realized and fully accepted something important in that endless-seeming silence.

After holding her wailing mess of a friend for some five or ten minutes, Weiss managed to get both of them back to the table she had been sharing with Mister Axter. She sat Ruby down first, for the woman sorely needed the assistance, and then herself in short order. A barista came to take their order—the same that had checked on Ruby after her rude awakening—but Weiss only shooed her away. From there, they sat in silence. Ruby shifted in her seat after a few minutes, drawing her knees up to her chin and hugging them tightly. After that she was still as a statue. Weiss looked on quietly. She had her own thoughts rolling around in her head, most of which were concerned with the woman across from her.

And not a few of which were concerned with the question she posed to Mister Axter just before he left, which she answered for herself just as Ruby broke the silence at last.

“I lied.” Ruby said, her voice almost fully muffled by her knees.

“I know.” Weiss said.

Another short silence, then Ruby said, “I’m not ok.”

“I know that too.”

Ruby watched Weiss with clear suspicion. Her eyes begged caution, but her throbbing, aching heart cried for succor. The urge to open up and lay it bare was all but undeniable, yet overpowered by the malignant disposition that had haunted her since leaving Patch. Or, if one were to be entirely thorough, since watching her sister die before her very eyes.

“You’re still thinking about Yang.” Weiss said.

Ruby nodded once in response, slow and deliberate.

“It _hasn’t_ stopped hurting.” Weiss said.

Another slow, deliberate nod.

“And yet you still managed to pass a test that few of Remnant’s brightest could ever hope to overcome.”

A surprise dawned in Ruby’s eyes for a moment, bright and vibrant, before dissipating the next instant. Undeterred, Weiss went on.

“I said I’m here for you, Ruby.” Weiss said, leaning forward and placing a hand on one of Ruby’s, “If you need to talk, I’m here. If you need to cry, I’m here. If you need to cut loose and scream, yell or break something… well, I know more than a few places.”

Clutching Ruby’s hand, Weiss squeezed tighter to emphasize her point. Ruby only continued to watch with a mistrustful glare.

“This isn’t something _anyone_ expects you to get over easily.” Weiss went on, “It’s ok to hurt over it—it’d still be ok to hurt over it two years from now!”

A cold wind blew over them, disturbing the many petals all around. The trees however, now bare and devoid of their blossoms, had nothing more to give that cold wind. It whistled through their boughs, shaking the poor things fruitlessly.

“I can’t do this…” Ruby whispered, barely audible against that whistling cold.

But Weiss heard her, and squeezed that hand a little tighter as she responded.

“Whatever you _are_ going to do, Ruby…” Weiss said, taking a breath and readying herself, “I’ll be there with you.”

At first, Ruby’s gaze was the same dead glare it had been for most of the last half-hour. Then understanding began to dawn, chased quickly and replaced with awe. The sort of dumb-struck awe that mankind must have felt when Dust was first used to fend off the Grimm.

“What do you mean?” Ruby asked with mixed disbelief and hope, though the latter was entirely unconscious.

Weiss took a deep breath and let go of her friend’s hand. She sat up straight in her seat, collecting her thoughts as fully as she could. And there was much and more to collect. An entire lifetime’s worth had been building and coalescing since that momentary slip on the cliff in far-off Patch. Things that had been built on other feelings—feelings that had been there longer but were of no less import.

The heiress shut her eyes and took another breath. She let it go in a deep, longing sort of sigh. A satisfied sigh; a sigh that said it was time. All around, the cherry petals danced like playful wisps. Birds flitted through the sky, chirping happy tunes into the clouds. The conversations of all the passersby—all the people that occupied the same space, both within and without the bistro—died away.

Weiss opened her eyes at last and looked into Ruby’s, her heart racing but her mind calm.

“Ruby…” Weiss said, “I’ll be there, for whatever you decide to do. I’ll be there because…”

And then it hit her, staying Weiss’s tongue if only for an instant. How should she say it? It only took a moment to decide, of course; she was a Schnee after all. Upfront and blunt, go big or go home, all or nothing—the Schnee way until the end…

“I love you.”

She said it, and it was good. Ruby heard it, and it was accepted—without hesitation, without thought. Yes, there were still many things wrong. Yes, her sister was still dead, and yes, that pain was still monumental. No, those simple words would not right these wrongs, but in that moment of heartfelt confession—in that moment of open and simple palaver, from one soul to another—there descended a peace upon her. It would not stay the coming storm, and it would not halt the approaching oblivion in its entirety…

But, at least for the moment, these two roses—red, and white—danced gleefully in their newfound hope, in their newfound truth.

And it was good.

 

**_To Be Continued…_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afterword:
> 
> Well, here we have it Dearest Reader. The Roses have begun their dance, and for now our story is done. This is no final end, oh no—the complete resolution will come later. For now, however, I hope you are all satisfied with what we have seen thus far.  
> But enough of that, for there are a few words I would say.  
> First of these are my thanks. To Monty Oum—God rest your soul—I thank you so much for making this world. These characters, which I hope have been given just representation in my derivative work, and this world of yours, which is every bit as enchanting as Vvardenfell or Middle Earth, are treasures. You may have passed on, oh Good Man, but your legacy and memory shall burn eternal in these things, and in those that will forever miss you.  
> Next, I have to thank and acknowledge the one who made this story possible. To you, Rebecca, I give my thanks for allowing me to flesh out your idea. It was your prompt that spawned this—what was supposed to be a more erotic one-shot—and my pestering that has turned it into the epic I will continue to weave. And yet, in the end… there would be no Roses, dancing or otherwise, without that simple prompt. So once again: Thank You.  
> Last to be thanked, but equally as important as any, are you, Dearest Readers, that have deigned to spare my work a glance or two. For all your time reading, for all your effort critiquing, and for all the patience given: thank you. From the bottom of my heart, with sincerest sincerity—thank you.  
> Now, before I wrap this up, I have to say this one last thing:  
> This story has been an adventure to write. I’ve learned so much along the way, both in grammar and structure. I’ve made a real mess of it in style, constantly switching up—but the next installment will not be so. When next I tell of our Dancing Roses, the style will be consistent and refined. However, for the sake of preserving my breadcrumbs, there will be no revision to this work. I want each mistake that made it by my editing to remain, so I can see where I came from; I want each dissimilarity between each chapter to remain, so I can better study how to move forward.  
> So again, thank you all for putting up with this. I hope it was enjoyable, and I hope you’ll be ready when the next installment comes. Until then…
> 
> Long days and pleasant nights, Dearest Reader,  
> -Adjudicato


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